Dark Desire's
by Wolfwhispers
Summary: Harry learns at a young age that what he can gain is only what he can Take. Remembering his earlier lessons of life, Harry goes down a dark path that forces more than just himself to grow up too fast. Independent and semipolitical Harry. No slash or bash.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary_: Harry learns at a young age that he can only gain what he can take. Remembering his younger lessons, Harry goes down a dark path that leads to not only him, but his friends as well, growing up too fast in just one summer. Independent and semipolitical Harry. No slash or bashing.

This will be the prologue of hopefully one of my best stories. As I thought about how to write it, I really wanted to put a bit of myself in it. This will be more of a rambler than a first chapter. Oh well. Hope you enjoy.

As always, I do not own Harry Potter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Young Harry Potter of only nine years old frowned thoughtfully as he colored his picture carefully. There were tiny little houses that indicated the picture's point of view was taken from the sky. Now scowling as he tried to fix his horribly drawn motorcycle, Harry almost jumped as his teacher came up behind him.

"Having trouble, Harry?" she asked kindly.

Giving one last scowl at the messy picture, Harry turned to his teacher. "I can't get the motorcycle right, Mrs. Kent," he mumbled.

"A bit young to be thinking of such things, aren't you?" she teased, thinking of boisterous teenagers on their loud motorcycles.

"I had a dream about one," Harry responded quietly, gazing at his picture before adding clouds.

"Was it flying, just like in your picture?" Mrs. Kent asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, giving her a cute smile. Mrs. Kent soaked it up, for it was not that often young Mr. Potter smiled so happily.

"I dreamt I was being carried away on a motorcycle with a giant!" Harry beamed, now wondering how he could add said giant if he didn't even remember what the giant had looked like.

"Well, you certainly have an active imagination. That's very good for a young man." Harry beamed. "Have you ever thought of doing creative writing? I'm sure you could fill a whole book on your thoughts."

"Why would anyone want him to do that?" a boisterous voice interrupted. Harry grimaced as he saw his fat cousin waddle over, his pudge bouncing with each step. "He's just a freak," Dudley crowed loudly, getting a few snickers from the other kids who were all afraid of the large brute and didn't want to get pounded.

"That is enough, Mr. Dursley," Mrs. Kent scolded. "I will not tolerate name calling in this classroom."

Dudley gave her an annoyed look before snatching Harry's drawing away, ignoring his protests. "Ooh, I'm telling dad," he whispered sinisterly, pushing Harry away to keep him away from the drawing. "You're thinking about… _magic._"

"I am not!" Harry denied. "It's just a picture."

"Yea, a stupid picture." And with that he took his two pudgy hands on both sides and was prepared to rip up the picture. "Say goodbye to it, fre—"

"That is enough, Mr. Dursley!" Mrs. Kent snapped, startling the nine year olds. She grabbed him firmly and snatched the picture away. "Here you are, Harry." Her voice softened toward him before her voice grew stern once more. "To the principal's office with you!" she barked at Dudley, leading him out of the classroom.

The last the nine year olds heard was his shout of, "I'm telling mom and dad!"

Harry looked down and gulped. He knew that this incident would make him be punished, not Dudley. As he gazed at his drawing, he took it gently and held it tightly. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sure enough when he got home the stony face of his aunt got in his face, yelling at him for getting his cousin in trouble.

"But I didn't do anything!" Harry protested angrily, the beginnings of tears forming in the corner of his eyes at the unfairness. "I just drew a picture. I didn't even say anything to Dudley." He showed her his picture just to prove it.

With a horrified screech, Petunia grabbed it, ignoring Harry's protests, much like her son. "What is this?" she demanded, heart thumping horribly. Had the freaks showed up sooner than she thought?

"I dreamt it," Harry said softly, almost pitifully as tears finally leaked down his cheeks as his aunt ripped the drawing in half and tossed it in the bin.

Petunia let out a soft breath. Good, it was just his imagination, which still wasn't exactly good but much better than… than that _magic_. Petunia stared down at her silently crying nephew, unable to notice how differently he cried from her own son. Dudley bawled and screamed, more often than not destroying her last nerve. She loved her son more than anything, but could not help but help be jealous of how Harry cried, as silly and ridiculous as it was. There were of course other things that Harry did that she wished Dudley did…

And everytime she thought about it, it just made her angry.

"Get started on dinner," she told him with a haughty sniff, turning her back on his sorrowful green eyes. "And then go to your cupboard. I don't want to hear a peep out of you."

Brushing away his tears, Harry sniffled as he got to work on dinner. Slightly red, puffy eyes gazed down at the recipe he would make, unconsciously going over to where his aunt and cousin were. Already she was spoiling him and telling her precious son how much she loved him.

Harry's heart went cold at his aunt's bright smile that would never be for him. With an uncharacteristic scowl, Harry narrowed his eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry stared at the roof of his cupboard, which was in the shape of the stairs above him, as he listened to aunt and uncle in a hushed discussion a they sat in the kitchen.

"…boy been punished enough?" he could hear his uncle say.

Petunia nodded. "Dudleykinns had been sent to the office for calling the boy names."

"No less than the freak deserves."

"And you forget, dear, that at school there are different rules. Teachers do not tolerate bullying."

"Our Dudley a bully?" Vernon laughed heartily. "He's just showing them whose boss!" He calmed down a bit and took a sip of his tea. "Did you lock him in the cupboard the whole day?"

"With food, of course," Petunia said coldly. She didn't want the boy to die, after all.

"Anything else?"

Harry, who had been as silent as a mouse, twitched a bit at that. Surely his uncle didn't want to hit him again, especially since it was so late already and the incident already forgotten by his stupid cousin.

"No, dear, I didn't spank him, and no you may not. His teacher called and asked why he was limping on day in class and why she noticed his lower back was black and blue when he had crouched down at one point."

Vernon was silent for a moment. "What did you say?" he asked gruffly.

"That he fell down the stairs," Petunia answered calmly, stirring her drink.

Another moment of silence.

"Petunia, pet, you know I am not an abusive man."

Petunia gave him a surprised look before chuckling warmly. "I know that, love, and I know the boy needs a firm hand. Just, we need to be more careful. Just take things away if he's in trouble."

In his cupboard, Harry rolled over sadly, back toward the door as he gazed about his puny room. Take what away, exactly? He had nothing.

As if answering his thoughts, Vernon snorted. "Take what away? The boy hasn't got anything, and when he does our Dudley takes it away."

Harry formed a fist, angry.

"And bad boys deserve gifts to be taken away," his uncle continued, not even knowing he had just caused Harry to have an epiphany.

As his aunt and uncle went upstairs to bed, conversation over, thoughts ran wildly through Harry's head. Bad boys deserved to have gifts taken away…

It echoed over and over. If that was true, why didn't Dudley ever get stuff taken away? He was always in trouble, but nothing ever seemed to happen. Harry frowned as he sat up, brushing a spider off his chest thoughtlessly before it struck him.

Take! Take away! Dudley needed his gifts to be taken away by him, just like Dudley doing he same to him. It was such a wonderful feeling to have discovered this, but he was hit with another snag. How could he take away Dudley's gift? Dudley had brute force on his side, while all he had was…

What did he have?

Harry thought about what he was good at. The first thing he thought of was homework, but that wouldn't help with taking Dudley's gifts. What was another? Well, for one he was good at hiding and sneaking away, having plenty of practice with snatching food and running away from Harry Hunting.

Harry held up the spider he had brushed off earlier and lifted it toward the ceiling, beaming the whole time. "I figured it out!" he whispered excitedly, settling down as the spider began its slow process of making a web.

With a content smile, Harry fell asleep; eager to get Dudley back for all that he had done to him. He wasn't doing anything wrong. After all, he was just following his uncle's rules.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry bounced the large, dark blue bouncy ball in delight as he walked down the street. It had been his first Take, as he called it. He had been ordered to clean all the rooms so it was easy enough to grab it and stuff it in his oversized pants pocket. Ok, sure Dudley had dozens of bouncy balls and wouldn't even notice, but that didn't matter! He had made his first Take!

Harry let out a childish giggle, making a mischievous look as he slammed the bouncy ball as hard as he could into the ground and watched it fly high into the air. Hand shooting out and catching it easily, he shot the ball a victorious look, looking far too pleased.

Of course whenever Harry was happy, trouble was sure to come.

"Hey, freeeak?" Dudley sang, his mouth full of chocolate as he ate a mars bar.

An unexplained amount of jealousy shot through Harry, confusing him momentarily. He wished _he_ had a mars bar. It had always been his favorite candy, not that he ever got much.

"Whatchya go' there?" he asked, having a bit of a difficult time swallowing and talking at the same time.

Harry hid the bouncy ball in his fist. "Nothing," he said innocently.

"Don't look like nothing," Piers said, his face looking more ratty than usual as he gave an ugly and rather pitiful sneer.

"It's nothing," Harry repeated, more firmly, surprising himself. Where was this courage coming from?

The others were almost as surprised as him. They had never met a Harry Potter that spoke to them in a firm voice. The surprise of course went away in a manner of seconds.

"It's a bouncy ball," another boy, said with glee. "And its one of those big dollar ones!"

Dudley's face was already full of greed. "Give it here," he ordered, holding out a sticky hand.

For a moment, Harry was prepared to hand over the ball, not wanting to get beat up before he really, _really_ thought about it. If he didn't hand it over, there would be a pounding. If he did, it would happen anyway, so it would be useless either way.

Being near the park, people would have been able to watch and Dudley would have probably just walked away after receiving his prize. Strangely enough, there were no children or adults at the park. All in all, no matter what Harry did, he was screwed.

The tall grass that grew randomly around Surrey blew gently in the wind, breaking Harry out of his train of thought.

Dudley made an impatient noise, looking ready to forget the bouncy ball and just jump Harry. Before he could make a move, Harry moved his hand forward, blue ball visible. Dudley gave a smug grin before Harry reared back and did a throwing motion, screaming, "Go get it yourself!" before running off, leaving the group stunned.

Dudley's gang of idiots looked around frantically, looking for any sign of the bouncy ball bouncing away. It took them a full thirty seconds before one the smarter ones; a boy named Ryan, figured it out that Harry had fooled them.

"Get him and beat him up!" Dudley shouted, running as fast as he could with his other fat friends.

It was always a gross sight to see a fat person run, but to see a fat person such as Dudley run with a look of ugly anger, it was jus plain disgusting.

Harry panted as he ran past the park toys and into the tall grass, head almost taller than the long stalks. It didn't matter if he was shorter than the stalks, Dudley's gang could just follow his movement and into the tiny forest of trees that had been planted years ago for the children to play in.

It was perfect for hide and seek, even if the 'forest' was barely thirty feet. Even still, it was perfect to get away, and Harry was using it to his advantage. Delving into the array of branches hanging overhead and roots that could easily trip you, Harry hid behind a large tree, panting for breath as he crouched, holding the bouncy ball, his Take.

Not even a minute later the boys had entered through the trees, calling to him mockingly as if he were a dog. Suddenly wishing he had just given them the ball, for that would have surely led to a slightly better beating, Harry accidentally released a whimper.

"Got ya!" Piers crowed, fist slamming into Harry's face.

Harry screamed as pain sent his vision swimming. He held his eye carefully as he searched around for his glasses. He wasn't the only one to scream, however. Piers gave a rather girly squeak as he cradled his hand.

He muttered several curses that should not be known to an nine year old. "Gosh, Potter has the hardest head," he complained.

"Who cares," Dudley said, throwing the blue bouncy ball up and down. He gave a nasty look to Harry and kicked him into a bush.

Harry gasped as he felt his feet slide down something and frantically climbed out of the bush. Another punch and kick was the only response he got, startling him back into the bushes.

The harsh laughter and jeers made him blush in shame for being so weak. He didn't dare get up, preferring the cover the bushes were giving him. It was probably doing that that saved him a few more punches, for the boys left, gloating over taking away the bouncy ball from Harry.

Harry felt a sense of loss overtake him, even though Dudley technically took back his own thing. Getting up, Harry gave a startled squeak as the ground once again opened up, causing him to slide down. Harry grabbed at the sides of the hole he had almost fallen into and pushed himself out.

Crouching down, still in the bushes, Harry gazed into the hole curiously. It led down at an angle and wasn't very large, though it could easily fit his frame. Now curios, Harry pulled away roots and bush to let in some light. Getting on his bottom and half sliding half crawling, Harry made his way into the hole.

The bottom wasn't what he was expecting. A part of Harry had been hoping he had found a secret entrance to an underground tunnel that led to treasure or even a hole to China. Childish stuff like that. Harry wasn't sure what he had stumbled upon, though he was still awed. With the bushes cut away, there was enough light to see in the large hole (to him at least) to see properly.

It was an old den that used to house foxes. Harry knew this because he was staring down at the bone remains of foxes. There was one large one with five tiny ones. The bones were dried and were obviously old. Harry gazed about the cave with excitement, the earlier events already disappearing as he looked around the five foot tall den. It was several feet long, obviously made for the little ones to run around in. It was a shame that they had died, but like all boys that found a fossil or bones or even a lizard, they were overjoyed.

Sitting down, Harry poked at the bones, awed by how sharp the teeth were. He tried to pull a canine out, pouting a bit when he realized he didn't have the strength for it. Pushing the bones away in a corner, Harry blinked in surprise as he found something extraordinary underneath the pile of bones.

There, half buried in the ground, was a glowing rock. Not in the sense of shiny, but actually gave off a slight glow. It was almost teal, though it had more of a green sheen than blue. It was smooth in some areas but still had a jagged top. Harry eyed it carefully, amazed by the beautiful sight. Kneeling, Harry dug around it, surprised to see the rock attached to a smoother, much longer rock of the same color.

The two were connected, though not by much. Pulling as hard as he could, Harry nearly fell over as he gave a particularly hard tug, releasing the piece of rock from the larger piece. Harry's eyes sparkled with delight, holding the stone carefully. It was slightly bigger than his hand, but wasn't even heavy.

It had an almost see through look, very much like glass. Giggling with delight, Harry climbed out of the den and away from the bush covered entrance. To his disappointment, the rock stopped glowing as soon as sunlight hit it, though that didn't make it any less pretty.

Placing it in his pocket, and not finding it incredible that his very baggy pants had enough room for the rock to leave an unnoticeable bulge, Harry headed home with a happy grin. As he snuck into the house and into his cupboard, Harry hid the rock into a tiny corner behind dust and broken trinkets that had been in the small area even longer than Harry.

Satisfied that no one would notice it, Harry went into the kitchen, hoping to grab some food before his relatives noticed he was home.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had been a week since Harry had found the den and rock and he had returned to it everyday. It was his secret place, his clubhouse. Dudley often put boxes together and made one for himself, so Harry deemed the den as _his _playhouse. The rock became Harry's favorite possession. He took it everywhere, always squeezing it in his pocket, especially when he felt angry or scared, though rarely when he was happy.

Harry hadn't noticed it, but he had become bolder. He hadn't forgiven Dudley for taking his Take, though it seemed incredibly hypocritical. When he had noticed that, he renamed Take to Trophy, for that was what it should be. A trophy of his bravery for doing what Dudley and Uncle Vernon did to him.

Harry hadn't done anything incredible so far. At least not yet, he thought to himself. The most he had done was take a single pound from his uncle. Small as that might be, for Harry there would be major trouble involved with more bruising than words. Thankfully his uncle didn't even notice or thought Dudley had taken it, often doing so to get snacks at the grocer.

Even with things going as well as they could be, there were always problems with Harry involved. Dudley had gotten in trouble for teasing Harry once again, thus leading to Harry getting punishment once more. The first thing that had happened to Harry when he got home was getting flung over his uncle's knee and getting three hard _thwacks!_

As always, since it was impossible from the pain of Vernon's meaty hands, Harry cried silently and curled into a ball and clutched his rock to him, letting his tears fall on it. As he fell asleep, feeling nothing but sadness and anger, he didn't even notice the rock glow for a moment – and only a brief moment – before it returned to normal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Harry, are you doing ok?" Mrs. Kent asked softly.

Harry, who had just turned in his spelling test, jumped a little, not expecting the question. "I'm fine," he said, glancing at her curiously.

Mrs. Kent met Harry's look, wondering if Harry knew his curious gaze really looked more calculating than curious. "If you're sure, Harry." She paused. "Dudley isn't bothering you again, is he?"

"No, of course not."

It was obvious Harry was lying by how fast he said no. Mrs. Kent sighed. "You do know I'm here if you ever need to talk, ok?" There was a distrustful gaze to his eyes now. No one that young should have that look in their eye. Getting an idea, Mrs. Kent pulled out a simple paper notebook that had a black and white striped cover. She gave it to Harry, once again receiving a calculative look. "If you don't want to go to someone with your thoughts, you could always try writing them down," she suggested.

Harry stared at the notebook, not exactly sure what she meant. "Write my thoughts down?"

"Well, let's say you thought of something just now but didn't want to forget it later. You quickly write it down and have it for future reference."

"Reference?"

Mrs. Kent smiled. Harry acted so mature sometimes that she couldn't help but use big words, momentarily forgetting his age. "A comment for specific mentions," Mrs. Kent said, a little unsure. She really hated it when she had to explain a word without truly understanding what it meant. Oh sure, she knew the meaning in her mind, but just couldn't say it. It was one of those words.

At least Harry nodded a bit more surely this time.

"Very good. Now why don't you go on home, you do want to catch up to your friends, don't you?"

Harry glanced around, noticing he was last to go. Shrugging, Harry put the notebook in his beaten backpack and trudged homewards, thinking about why Mrs. Kent would give him such a thing. Squeezing his rock, Harry felt a bit more assured that no harm would come to it. Dudley hated writing, and as long as he didn't let anyone see drawings in it, it wouldn't be taken away.

Reaching home, Harry placed his belongings on the kitchen table, grabbed an apple and a glass of water, and sat down. Munching on the fruit, Harry looked at the first page blankly, completely unsure of what to do.

Write down his thoughts? He didn't even have any.

"Duddykinns, I'm home!" Aunt Petunia sang, the almost exact same way Dudley did. She stopped as she saw him. "Oh, it's just you."

Hurt by her tone, Harry watched her begin to put the groceries away. His eyes lit up as he saw a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

"Aunt Petunia," he said hesitantly before growing a bit bolder with his voice. "May I have a cookie?"

His aunt gave him a dirty look, as if not believing he had actually asked her for food. "No."

Harry's heart dropped. He squeezed his rock through his pocket, almost as if for support. Immediately, as Harry gazed at his aunt as she turned to give her husband, who had just come home, a kiss and both threw him a dirty look, Harry knew what to write down.

_I don't like my relatives._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, freak!" Dudley's gang called, each one chuckling stupidly as they searched through the trees and tall grass.

Harry held back a sniffle as he held his wrist carefully. It was very swollen and was an ugly reddish purple color. He was in the bush that covered his hideout. He dared not move any closer to the hole, afraid he would be found from the noisy rustle. All he could do was wait, which normally wasn't so hard, but with a possibly broken wrist, it was very hard.

As the last boy moved toward the exit of trees, clearly thinking Harry had bolted out, Harry finally moved and slid down the hole and landed with a small thump, jerking his wrist and yelping loudly. Frightened, Harry covered his mouth with his good hand and waited, eyes wide as he listened for the sound of fat boys tumbling down the small tunnel and towards him.

When nothing happened after a while, Harry let out a small sigh of relief before hissing with pain at his wrist. Carefully removing his backpack, Harry trudged toward the far end of his playhouse, which Harry really started to consider calling it a playden.

After a week of hanging out in his secret spot, Harry had taken to decorating it with whatever he could get his hands on. He had managed to steal the old medical kit in the medicine cabinet that was behind the newer one. It had been gathering dust for years, though it still had all necessary items, wraps included.

Wrapping his wrist until it looked like a mummy's hand; Harry gave a sniffle as he looked around. The walls were covered with drawings of Harry's imagination. They had been pinned up with sticks, which was quite easy with the soft dirt. Each drawing had something that was absolutely forbidden in the Dursley's household.

They were all drawings of something magical, unrealistic and impossible. There were dragons, fairy's and even a vampire. Harry had also drawn what he thought a magic wand looked like. It was white, outline with black, and had golden stars racing across it.

These were things Harry could do to be rebellious, to get back at his relatives. It was small, and quite ridiculous, but Harry was satisfied. It made him think that he was winning. Winning what, even he didn't know, but it didn't matter because Harry was happy he had something that the Dursley's couldn't take.

However, that didn't stop Dudley from taking things he actually knew Harry had. Like lunch, for example. With a hungry belly and a somehow smarter group, they had managed to catch Harry unawares and even managed to hurt his wrist. From the feel of it, Harry was afraid it was broken. He was scared that if he asked his aunt or uncle to take him to the doctors, he would get yelled at for abusing their goodwill by making them spend money.

Not that they ever did, Harry thought bitterly as he curled into a ball on some of the old blankets and towels he had found in several trashcans. With his bad arm curled carefully on his side, Harry used his good hand to take out his stone and squeeze it hard. He had often taken his frustrations out on the rock by squeezing it. It seemed to work sometimes, and now it was, leaving Harry hungry and tired.

Sighing softly, Harry finally let his eyes close, eyelashes still fluttering every now and then as he fell into a hard sleep, dreaming of nothing and everything without realizing because as soon as he woke, he remembered nothing from his dreams. Of course, he didn't know that since he was still asleep at the moment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dudley was an idiot. That was a fact and was not a big thinker. Then why was it that he was a leader? A leader of idiots, sure, but a leader nonetheless. The more Harry's semiconscious mind thought about it, the more sure he became.

Dudley was only a leader because he got a group together that had the same thought process, the same goals and ideas. Once again, they were stupid goals and ideas but that was what made them stick together.

_Stupidity._

It was such an incredulous thought and idea that Harry was momentarily unsure of himself before he realized that he was right. Being a leader meant uniting people under the same beliefs. Shatter those beliefs, and then what are they left? Nothing… unless of course a new goal that interests them is forwarded quickly. It was then that Harry awoke to that train of thought.

At first he was confused as to wear he was, getting over nap shock quickly. The second thing that confused him was that his wrist wasn't hurting anymore. In fact, it didn't even sting. As Harry took off the wrappings, he gazed in astonishment at his wrist. It was completely normal and had no ill color or even a slight swell.

Harry was so shocked that he almost forgot to write down his thoughts on leadership.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry flicked his tongue through the empty space in his mouth offhandedly, getting used to the fact that he now had a hole in his line of teeth. He was of course used to losing teeth, but the feeling always left him strange. Glancing down at the tooth in his hand, Harry tossed it in the bin without a second thought, though he did wish he would receive a dollar under his pillow like Dudley whenever he lost a tooth.

Harry had tried to do the same with his own tooth when he had been much younger. To his disappointment his tooth was still there in the morning, and when he asked his aunt why she had simply told him to be quiet and not think about. Then again she wouldn't even let Dudley say 'Tooth Fairy' out loud either.

Pulling away from his thoughts, Harry nibbled on the end of his pen, writing in his journey and absentmindedly stroking his rock, which was still in his pocket. A whole half year since he got the rock and notebook and already his mind had written and thought of so many things. They weren't always good and often led to second thoughts that made Harry uncomfortable as he read them.

Some days he was so mad with his relatives that he wrote how much he hated them and would be better off if they died. There were even a few kid drawings of his fat uncle, cousin and horse aunt dead and sprouting blood.

Harry was just glad no one cared enough to look in his notebook, and although Mrs. Kent had asked once, getting his denial obviously meant not to try again and barely ever speak to him, save class.

"Duh nuh nuh. Phawnu nana!" Dudley screamed in an attempt to sing with the rock band he was listening to.

In his hand was a brand new CD player, something he had been begging for several days. Just thinking about Dudley's high pitched screams and demands was enough to make Harry's ears ring.

Grimacing at Dudley's voice, Harry had to wonder why so many people liked to do stupid versions of singing around him. Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Dudley's gang all sang horribly. It was a wonder their voices hadn't cracked yet.

Dudley grabbed a soda pop out of the fridge, glanced at Harry, gave an ugly smirk and blew a raspberry, and then headed out. As he did so, Harry jotted down the next line in his notebook.

_Trophy in sight._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry stayed in the shadows with as much care as possible, doing his best to follow his cousin and gang without being caught. Strangely enough, it wasn't that hard. Dudley and his friends obviously thought they wouldn't ever be followed. And that was why the group was talking so loudly and boisterously, despite it almost being dark.

Usually around this time Harry was supposed to finish up some last minute gardening before cleaning the shed. He had already finished those as quickly as possible, using the time he had to follow his cousin.

He was hoping Dudley would take off the earphones and put the CD player on the ground or something. So far he hadn't, taking the time to brag about it every few minutes. Harry was amused to see that even some of the gang was beginning to grow annoyed with Dudley's bragging.

_With Dudley repeating everything he just said every few minutes it's more than easy enough to get annoyed, _Harry thought.

Another boring ten minutes of following Dudley proved to be pointless. Harry was preparing himself to just give it up, not wanting to be caught away from the house and get in trouble. Just at the last second, Dudley gave an excited shout, startling not only Harry, but the gang as well.

"Look, some idiot forgot his spray cans!" Dudley said excitedly, dropping all his belongings to the ground without the slightest care. Harry was surprised to see the CD player remain intact.

With excited cries, the other boys followed Dudley and dropped their own bags, picking up the spray cans and spraying along the walls that were already covered in wet graffiti. This didn't stop the boys from their own spray painting; they just shouted and gave excited cries.

While the gang was going crazy, Harry knew this was his chance! Creeping along, Harry had his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth with a deep look of concentration. Gulping, Harry crept over the bags, already crouched down and ready to take the CD player and run.

"Hey!"

Harry felt his gasp catch in his throat. He was already starting to shake as he shut his eyes, prepared for the onslaught of punches. He heard the gang guffaw excitedly, probably already deciding to let him bleed to death in the alley.

"Look at the size of that rat! I bet I could spray paint it before you!"

It took a moment before the shock settled in Harry, forcing him to open his eyes incredulously. All of the boys had their back toward Harry. Not a single one had seen him. Instead, they were all giving leery looks toward a very twitchy looking rat.

"Get it!" they yelled, screaming battle cries that sounded a lot like crazy baboons.

Shaking himself out of his shock, Harry took that chance to run. He ran as if Satan were after him. Harry took no chance, not wanting to push his look. He ran all the way to the Dursley's where he quickly buried the CD player in the garden. No one, not even Aunt Petunia, who claimed she did all the gardening, would even set foot in the garden.

Unable to help it, Harry burst out laughing. He had done it! He took Dudley's prized possession! Well, perhaps that was a bit too much, especially since Dudley would probably get a new one, but that didn't matter! After the bouncy ball incident Harry was unable to get anything from Dudley, making him extremely angry because he constantly had to hear his uncle talk about bad boys getting items taken away as punishment. Well, Dudley hadn't gotten anything taken away, and that just urged Harry to find a way to get something.

Squeezing his rock, which probably should be called a lucky rock, Harry gave a triumphant smile, feeling as if could take anything without ever being caught.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later that night Dudley came home screaming, claiming that someone had stolen his CD player. Uncle Vernon had reacted quickly, saying he'd beat the snot out of whoever stole from his boy. Aunt Petunia had asked where he had last put it.

Dudley, being the stupid pig he was, told them about the alley. What he left out, of course, was the fact that he had been spray painting. So of course the three of them had gone off on a nighttime walk to try and find the device, leaving him with a few threats not to do anything while away.

When the Dursley's had arrived a few cops were there, inspecting the wall. Suffice to say that explaining to a cop that their son had lost something at a crime scene at the exact time of the crime was very hard. It involved quite a few tears and denials from Petunia and threats between Vernon and the cop before they were finally allowed to leave.

Of course with the spray cans littered about with fingerprints, the cops were back within a day at the door of every member of Dudley's gang. Sadly, because they were all kids, a fine was all that happened. Still, it was quite satisfactory to see Uncle Vernon color at someone other than himself.

However, what was not so satisfactory was telling a disbelieving cop in private that he slept in a cupboard, got beat up a lot by Dudley and his friends and was sometimes starved for not completing his chores.

All he received was a hair ruffle and a friendly, "You've got one active imagination, kid. Why don't you put that to good use instead of lies?"

Later that night Harry wrote the last line in his notebook that he would make for years that showed his true feelings.

_Adults don't believe me. I can't trust them._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Not once did it ever cross Harry's mind that what he was doing was stealing and that it was wrong. His relatives did it to him, claiming him 'bad', so why could he not do the same to them when he deemed them bad? It all seemed completely fair to Harry, and that was how he lived his life for the next year and a half, right before he turned eleven.

Harry had poured everything into his special rock, his most prized possession. All his emotions, thoughts, everything… they all went into the stone since it was always with Harry, but now Harry had come to a crossroad. He was going to be learning _magic._ He couldn't help feeling a bit smug that his relatives had lied to him, told him that he could never aspire to anything. Well, he was going to be learning magic!

But that also opened his eyes to danger. If he could barely pull off getting small trophies from his relatives, what chance did he have against people who have done magic their whole life? Not to say he would Take anything from these wizards, he didn't even no anyone.

But the problem was that those people that have used and are used to magic would find it easy to simply Take his prized stone away. He had already met greedy goblins and too curious witches and wizards. There were always someone around to steal, and Harry couldn't take that chance. And so here he was, in his playhouse the day before he started Hogwarts.

Harry bit his lip, completely unsure and trying to think of some way that he could keep his stone without fear of losing it or having it get stolen. When he drew a blank, Harry thought about magic, wondering if there was something he could do to keep it blank. Coming up with another blank, Harry took out his notebook, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

_Study magic hard._

With a sigh, Harry placed the notebook and rock in the exact same place where he found said stone. Shoveling dirt over the items, Harry took one last look around his haven. He looked over the messy colored pictures, to the blankets and towels, finally resting on his second most valuable possession, or perhaps possessions.

It was a small shoebox in the corner, hidden behind the fox bones. Inside were all the Takes, or Trophies. There were a few pounds from Uncle Vernon, small toys that Dudley had cherished, as ell as the CD player, and even a diamond and silver necklace Aunt Petunia had loved so very much.

The Dursley's could never prove he had taken the necklace, but that still didn't mean they didn't blame him, which Harry found unfair since he hadn't left any proof. Well, that didn't matter anymore.

Giving a sad sigh, Harry crawled out of his playhouse, making sure to cover it with plenty of bushes and leaves, promising that he would return at the end of the school year with a way to protect his Trophies.

However, like all things that happen to Harry, things go down hill. With all his worries for the year with the stone and Quirrell, Harry had completely forgotten his playhouse and Trophies. And the same happened the next year and the next year. In fact most of his younger life was slowly being forgotten by the poor excuse of a wizard he was becoming.

It would take several years before Harry finally remembered his broken promise that was meant to protect something that had meant so much to him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Clicky duh click click.

Yep, I'm done with this horrid prologue but that's ok. I just really needed you to understand how Harry found his special hideaway and learned about Takes and Trophies. Remind anyone of a young Tom Riddle? No…? Then read the books and stop watching the movies!

I know the stone thing seems kind of weird, but it has a huge point! Promise!

Haha, ok, I'm done. Hope you like the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

I kind of got the talk between Voldemort by everybody's thoughts and Myst Shadow's AN in Forging the Sword. We were all thinking. Seriously, just what the hell has Harry been doing all these years when so many others did such amazing feats?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Rating: T. Rating will go up later, or if people have complaints I can raise the rating. Or better yet, stop reading.

Wizarding Currency: (In my mind at least.)

1 Galleon: 5 dollars, 2.89 pounds

1 Sickle: 30 cents, 0.17 pence

1 Knut: 1 cent, 0.06 pence

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The air around them was tense, completely overcome with grief as they all held the moment of silence close. Every person in that tiny room let their minds be filled with grief for a moment – and only a moment – for that was all they could afford. Once they had their moment, everyone turned to the old, but greatest, leader they had ever known.

Albus Dumbledore opened his eyes, the usual twinkle slightly dull. He looked each person in the eye before speaking. "I would like to thank you for coming," he heard himself saying, truly meaning those words, for one presence was no longer with them. "With the passing of Sirius Black, we have been forced to vacate the Black residence, for fear of being discovered by either the Ministry or Lord Voldemort."

Most in the room flinched at the name.

"Is there nothing we can do to keep them from taking everything away?" Remus asked hoarsely, eyes very red and puffy as he stared down at a bottle of scotch with a look of detachment. He hadn't picked up a drink since the day Lily and James had died.

The wizened Headmaster looked at the werewolf with no real emotion. "We have lost a Headquarters and the resources that came with the Blacks, not that we had access to much, thankfully, for they are quite dark."

"Surely we got everything?" Mrs. Weasley asked hopefully. "We did so much cleaning for that poor wreck of a house."

Dumbledore smiled at her patiently. "I do not mean artifacts or books that were lying about the house in plain sight, but hidden passageways with the Black secrets and rare treasures passed down from generation."

"Not that we needed such junk," Moody sneered, chugging down some firewhiskey. He was the only one of them that didn't look remotely sad about the loss of Sirius Black. Disappointed, yes, for the young man had been quite a fighter, but no emotional attachment.

Dumbledore fixed the ex-auror a hard stare. "While such possessions may have been useless to us, they are quite valuable to our enemies. The Ministry has been fighting to get a hold of the Black establishment for years, even before Sirius had been evicted. I dare not think what Tom might do if he were to control the Black vaults."

They all grimaced at the thought.

Tonks spoke up suddenly. "I don't believe they would find much of anything," she said, talking to the room as a whole with a thoughtful frown. "I mean, yeah, there are a lot of dark objects that any dark wizard would drool over, but the Blacks were practically broke. I remember mum always saying how it was such a shame her dear mother" – Tonks paused to sneer – "never had more than a few piles of galleons left of the Black fortune. The main Blacks were never exactly sane," she said with a grimace. "And Sirius only gained a small fortune because of the income that came while he had been in prison, not that it helped much."

"While that's all well and good, missy, we still need to discuss what to do about new headquarters," Moody growled, pushing away his empty shot away. He fixed their leader, and his old friend, a hard look. "I still say we leave a few guards to watch the place, especially since we still retain all of its knowledge and location."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I dare not risk anyone's life on the sake of a house," he said seriously. "And you seem to be forgetting that you all have jobs to do."

They all nodded glumly. The aurors had much work to do if they were to influence the Ministry. Mad-Eye had been hired to teach the aurors all about war and had almost no time. Remus was to be sent out in a few days time to seek out alliances with the magical creatures, werewolves mainly, and even Dung had important duties.

"When will we know it's safe?" Tonks asked, speaking about Grimmauld's.

"If we knew Sirius made a Will, it would be a simple matter," Dumbledore said thoughtfully as he stroked his beard. He glanced at Remus, as if seeking the answer.

Remus simply sighed. "I don't know," he said sadly. "He certainly never made a Will in front of me, or any of us for that matter. With him stuck in the house all the time, I doubt he could have even gotten to Gringott's without at least alerting someone."

"Then everything will go to the Ministry," Tonks said with disgust. As much as she loathed the Black family prestige and what they stood for, especially for what they did to her mother, she still couldn't help but feel anger that everything from her family would be snatched away by the greedy hands of the Ministry and their fool of a Minister.

"On the bright news, if Sirius did make a Will, we will know a week before its read," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Those that were named or related by blood will be given a notice."

There was some relief there, for even if there was no will, all those with Black blood would receive notice of the Black family confiscation. It was quite a humiliating letter that clearly stated you could do nothing. It had happened once to one old pureblood family long ago about a hundred years ago. The main line had no living heir and no Will. Suffice to say other pureblood families learned from that mistake.

"I believe it is time to depart," Dumbledore said sagely. "We have intruded long enough in the Weasley household."

"No trouble at all!" Mrs. Weasley said, looking a bit flustered and was trying to help as much as possible.

Dumbledore twinkled at them all merrily. "And we thank you, Molly, but we all have jobs to do. I myself promised an old goat to a drink."

The others said nothing, used to their sometimes crazy leader saying odd things, though how promising a goat to a drink constituted as a job nobody knew.

"Remus," Dumbledore called, stopping the amber eyed man.

Remus gave a sigh, as if knowing what was coming. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"I couldn't help but notice that you have yet to see Harry, and it looks to me that you have not thought much of the boy."

Remus flinched but didn't deny it. "I have been detained," he said, meeting the blue eyes unflinchingly. "I have been very busy, as per your orders, sir."

Dumbledore folded his hands, giving Remus a shrewd look. "Yes, my orders have left you little time for your life," he said apologetically.

Remus fought back this flinch.

"But I also believe that you have had at least two days of rest this past week."

"Headmaster," Remus sighed, "please, just say it. Or better yet, allow me. I know you want me to see Harry." There was silence.

"But?" Dumbledore pressed softly, patiently.

"But I can't see him," Remus said miserably.

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand, you are grieving and have lost someone very important."

"I'm glad you understand." Remus turned away, ready to leave.

"Yes, I understand, but I think you are a fool."

Remus gapped, never having heard the Headmaster be so blunt before. "Sir?"

Dumbledore peered at Remus over his half rimmed glasses. "Do not think you are the only one hurt, my boy. We are all affected by the loss of a great man, you and one other just more so. I don't believe you understand how this might affect your relationship with Harry if you continue to keep away."

Remus felt a pang of guilt. In the far distance of his mind, he could hear the wolf growling angrily, needing to hunt to be rid of his anger and see his cub to heal the loneliness.

"I'll think about it," he said, leaving quickly to the Headmaster couldn't call him back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Things were not going well in Harry's line of life. Grief had overtaken Harry's mind the first two days of summer. He had become a recluse, not leaving his room except to use the loo. He didn't even go down for food or leave his corner where he sat.

His relatives, becoming tired of him not helping out, and generally hating deadbeats, had finally dragged him into a shower and turned icy cold water on him before leaving in an angry huff.

Harry had sat there in a daze before realizing his skin was becoming blue by how cold the water was. Suffice to say he got out of there as fast as possible. Of course with him on his feet his relatives didn't even hesitate to assign him chores, despite the threat from the Order.

However, what they didn't count on was Harry to get over his grief and become angry. It was like a trade off, and an unwelcoming one at that. Harry could never remember ever standing up to his uncle in a yelling match and actually winning. Of course, the mere mention of the Order was enough for the great walrus to pale dramatically before turn away with an outrageous huff.

And so here Harry was now, sitting at the park in the middle of the night as he glared at the abandoned swing set that was slowly moving back and forth because of the warm wind. Bringing a fag to his mouth, Harry took a long drag before blowing out dramatically.

He had taken up smoking after three days of summer after finding a pack in his cousin's room. He had wanted, _needed_, to do something to try and take his mind off Sirius. He had tried everything from running, working out, doing homework, and even reading all of his old school books.

Nothing had worked. He had merely thrown his school books away in disgust, actually ripped in his potion books and overexerted himself when running and working out. He had put too much into it, almost collapsing in a heap and losing consciousness. It certainly hadn't been very fun, and the cigarettes don't really do anything. They were just something to do, though it did help in a small way. What a shame he didn't have an I.D. to prove he was sixteen, which he wasn't quite yet, but it would prove useful in the future.

Flicking the rest in a huff, Harry watched the small light go out almost immediately from the force. Getting up, Harry brushed his old shorts off, which were really Dudley's old pants that had been cut with scissors. Stretching, Harry glanced at his watch before cursing and wondering for the millionth time why he had not gotten a new watch. It had been a year and half, and still he kept the old watch out of forgetfulness and laziness.

Forcing his hands in his pockets, Harry glanced behind him as he heard voices coming his way. Sighing at the sound of his pompous cousin, Harry made a beeline for the cluster of trees for cover, not wanting a confrontation. No use in getting into a fist fight with six boys all easily twice, or Dudley's case, four, times his size.

Watching from behind the trees, Harry brushed off a cobweb with annoyance, wondering why they bothered keeping the cluster of trees. It was no use to children anymore, being infested with spiders and animals.

Stepping back, Harry watched Dudley's gang destroy the park, almost finding it amusing that one boy was stupid enough to kick the metal slide. It did bring a smirk to his face as he saw the boy hop up and down as he clutched his foot.

Sighing, Harry melded into the trees even farther, deciding to exit on the other side so he could get to the Dursley's house before Dudley. Slouching a little to keep the branches from hitting his head, Harry used his arms to keep things out of his face. Too bad it was so dark, because Harry could barely see where he was going. Already getting a few cuts on his cheek and a spider dropping on his arm, Harry nearly shouted in surprise and anger as he fell into a thick bush, his feet sliding down a hole before he caught himself.

"Stupid bush," Harry snarled, clambering out of the bush, getting several cuts on his legs. Glaring one last time at the buttonbush plant, Harry stalked away, only to get another spider in his hair.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Boy, I need you to start cleaning—" Aunt Petunia cut herself off, glaring at her dark looking nephew in the corner of his room. "Are you smoking!" she hissed outrageously.

Harry gave her a glare as he glanced up from his fourth year Defense book, fag in hand. "Yep."

"How dare you!" she screeched. "I will not have some hooligan smoking in my house!"

"Dudley does it," Harry said with a shrug.

"Duddykinns does nothing of the sort," Aunt Petunia said with a sniff. "Now put that out – and I better not see anymore! – and start cleaning," she commanded, leaving the room.

Harry smashed the remains of his smoke against the wall, just like he had done several time already, and tossed it under his bed. Getting up with a stretch and small burp, Harry scratched his stomach as he realized just how hungry he was getting. Clambering down the stairs, Harry glared at his aunt, daring her to comment on how loud he had been coming down, even though he had purposefully stepped on all the squeaky spots.

Grabbing a bag of chips and produce and bread, Harry made a sandwich.

"I told you to clean," came the snooty voice.

"No point in cleaning twice," Harry responded, putting some extra mayo just to spite his aunt. He took a bite and gave her a small glance, as if telling her wordlessly she wasn't worth his time. Which she wasn't, of course.

"Then hurry up!" she snapped, whirling around furiously.

Eyeing the spot where his aunt once stood, Harry took another bite out of his sandwich, savoring the taste of turkey and tomato. It had been a while since he had such things, for Hogwarts food was always so glamorous compared to his life style. Finishing his food, Harry gave an annoyed sigh, going to the cupboard to take out the cleaning supplies.

As always when forced to look into his old bedroom, Harry always felt a small amount of anger and trepidation. Grabbing some window spray and dropping a few sponges, Harry sighed as he leaned down to pick them up. Elbow against some old wood to lean in far enough to reach the fallen supplies, Harry let out a shocked cough as his elbow went straight through the wood and into a small hole.

Wincing as he pulled out a splintered elbow, Harry felt his eyebrows lift in confusion at finding a small hole filled with old drawings and crayons. Cleaning off his elbow first and pulling out a few splinters, Harry grabbed the items curiously, wondering what his younger self hid so long ago.

A small smile graced his lips as he stared at the taped picture of a flying motorcycle. He was about to look at the others before the screech of his aunt interrupted him.

"I don't hear any cleaning!"

"It's getting done!" Harry snapped back angrily, putting the drawings away for a moment, grabbing the rest of the cleaning supplies to finish as quickly as possible.

Washing the kitchen and bathroom quickly, Harry was about to race back to the cupboard and into his room before he heard a rude cough, almost sounding like the dreaded _Hem Hem _of that toad, Umbridge.

"Did you do the kitchen?" Petunia asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes," Harry said exasperatedly.

"Bathroom?"

Oh my god. "Yes."

"Garage?"

"Make Dudley do something for once," Harry snapped. "I'm not a little kid or your damn slave anymore," he told her coldly, watching her face pinch.

For a moment she looked as if she wanted to slap him, but one once over at his taller form made her pause. "I'll have Vernon deal with you once he gets home," she said just as coldly.

"Why, can't handle little ol' me on your own?" Harry asked mockingly, stepping forward, sucking in the power he was feeling from watching her tremble. Why couldn't he have always been taller than his relatives? The only one he was still smaller than was Vernon, though he still had a lot more bulk and fat while Dudley was just plain fat.

She stared up at him, defiance in her eyes as she stared into his own. "Just like your damn mother," she said quietly.

Harry blinked, not expecting that. "Excuse me?"

"Like my bloody sister!" Petunia roared, looking just like the time she had exploded when Hagrid had come to pick him up. "Always strutting about as if she were better than everyone just because she was a witch! And you!" she said accusingly. "A wizard," she sneered.

Harry pondered over her for a moment, now not feeling so great about scaring her enough to make her explode. "Yes," he said quietly. "I am a wizard."

"Not a very good one, I suppose," she said haughtily. "Lily was able to get away with turning tea cups into rats, but what can you do? Nothing," she spat. "Nothing but scare good people."

"You mean you and your family," Harry said with amusement. "You mean just like how you and your oh so loving family made sure I lived in fear of punishment everyday of my life?"

"You were out of control," Petunia said dangerously, backing up as Harry started laughing.

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry said dryly. "So that's why I was dealt with abusively?"

"My husband and I are good people and are—"

"Hypocrites," Harry finished sourly. "You always gossip about spying neighbors but do it yourself. It's not that hard to understand what you're doing," he told her, frowning. "I'm sure the neighbors know as well." He grinned as she became white. He leaned close to her, scar twitching a bit. "Yes, Petunia, I am a wizard," he breathed. "And you don't think I can't do anything? Well, you're wrong, Petunia. I could kill you and your family in an instant, claiming self defense against my abusive relatives. Don't believe me? I still have scars to prove it," Harry said coldly. "And do you know what? Wizards don't tolerate abusive muggles, muggles like yourself."

"Stop it!" Petunia screeched, completely white and breathing hard. She closed her eyes and pointed upstairs. "Go… just go."

"Gladly," Harry said, eyes sparkling in dark delight as he grabbed his find and headed upstairs, rubbing his scar.

Harry dropped the items on his bed and sat next to it, shuffling through the papers with interest, wondering what he had drawn in the past, wincing a bit as his scar pricked even. Putting the papers down with a huff, Harry fell on his back, head against his pillows, and glared at the ceiling.

"Get the fuck out of my mind, Voldemort," Harry growled angrily, gasping suddenly and arching upward as his scar flashed with pain.

"_Such a mouth, young one," _Voldemort chided. _"And so much rage."_

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the one behind my anger," Harry accused.

Voldemort chuckled, making Harry scowl. He hated it when Voldemort laughed at him. _"Now we both know that isn't true, Harry, and my, threats already? I'm very pleased with you."_

"Yea, well, don't hold you're breath if you expect me to please you purposefully."

There was silence on the other end of the connection.

"Voldemort?" Harry called hesitantly.

"_I'm still here, petulant child," _Voldemort chided, not liking the thought of being called like some commoner. _"Merely thinking of what your dear aunt said. Reviewing her wording, I too find myself disappointed."_

"Ah, my heart is breaking," Harry said sarcastically, holding back a wince from the pain he just received.

"_Not a very good wizard," _Voldemort quoted thoughtfully, and Harry could practically feel Voldemort's imagined gaze.

"Good enough to stop you," Harry taunted.

"_Harry, if you've _stopped_ me, why am I still here?" _Harry didn't answer. _"That's what I thought, Harry."_

"What do you want?" Harry demanded, softer this time.

"_A challenge, Harry Potter, a challenge."_

"Go fight Dumbledore then," Harry snapped. "Bugger off." He grit his teeth with pain. "And learn a new trick!" he snarled. "Sending me pain through my scar is getting old."

"_Poor, poor, Harry," _Voldemort taunted. _"So vulnerable… so weak."_

"Again, learn something new," Harry said coldly, growing tired of the game Voldemort was playing with him.

"_Perhaps you should follow your own advice," _Voldemort said, matching Harry's coldness with ease. _"A fifteen year old wizard with the same bag of tricks time after time. With how pathetic you are, and Dumbledore growing weaker with age, the Ministry shall be mine."_

"You've had years to take over," Harry pointed out. "And even before you decided to go ghost for a while. With all your threat's you really are nothing, Voldemort." Harry paused, growing a bit unsure. "What have you been doing all these years?"

"_Care to take a look at my past, learn of my life?" _Voldemort asked silkily._ "I have been doing what was needed. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day, Harry, and neither is becoming a Dark Lord. If you truly wish to know, figure it out on your own."_

"Like I have any interest in learning about you," Harry scoffed.

"_Know thy enemy, Harry. And I shall ask the question back, young one. Just what have _you _been doing all these years? Again I shall make another repeat: You have the same bag of tricks. Just look at your elders. Your father and his band of miscreants became animagus by their fifth year, even that weakling Pettigrew. And dear Severus, the man you hate so very much, is quite the genius, creating spells by sixth year. He makes such a brilliant slave."_

Harry didn't say anything, not wanting Voldemort to know how deep that hit. Hell, it seemed as if _Wormtail _was more powerful than him. Harry scowled. The thought repulsed him.

"_I shall leave you to your thoughts, little one."_

"Yea, leave," Harry snapped, feeling the connection break.

Growling, Harry grabbed the pack of cigarettes, sighing in relief when he found at least one more. Lighting up with a crappy lighter that cost a dollar at the grocer, Harry took a longer drag than usual, not noticing he knocked the colored pictures he had been looking at to the ground. He also didn't notice one very important one coming up on top, one that was colored mostly brown that showed a small underground with scribbled trees on top. In the middle of the underground den was a green stone.

But Harry didn't see this; he just stared up at the ceiling with foreign detachment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So what does my princess have planned for today?" John Granger asked his daughter with a smile as he looked at her over the newspaper.

Hermione gave her father a kind smile. "Well, as I haven't any homework this summer because of the O.W.L.s I was hoping Ron or Harry would contact me soon so I could get in touch and plan a possible trip somewhere, perhaps to Diagon Alley."

John gave his daughter a grin. "Well, I don't think you'll need to wait long, I saw your mother smothering a white owl a while ago."

Hermione bolted up. "And she didn't tell me?" she demanded, rushing off to find her mother and leave a bemused father. "Mum!" Hermione called.

"Up here, sweetie," Jean Granger called to her daughter; name the middle name of her precious little girl.

Hermione met her mother at the upstairs window, currently rubbing a cooing Hedwig. "Mum," Hermione whined. "Why didn't you tell me Harry sent a letter?"

"Oh, Hermione." Jean gave her daughter a patient look. "You know how much I love owls, and you never let me have a chance to enjoy Hedwig's or Pig's presence for more than a few minutes."

Hermione sighed. "Well, you could have just told me that but still given me the letter," she said softly, relieving Hedwig of her parcel. "Thanks, Hedwig."

Hedwig nipped her finger before resuming her crooning under Mrs. Granger's expert hands.

Ripping the letter open, Hermione did a double take before reading the letter a second time to make sure she hadn't mistaken anything.

_Hey Hermione,_

_How's the summer been? Yea, I know, cliché opening but with you and Ron constantly asking if I'm alright, I'd say I get the next boring question. So, it must be driving you barmy having no homework or no excuse to nag on me and Ron to work, huh? Just joking, Hermione. Well, as nice as it is to just catch up, I have something important to tell you._

Here the letter seemed paused, and Hermione could see some ink smudges that indicated Harry had tapped his quill a few times in thought. Just imagining her friends' thoughtful look made her giggle.

_Ok, look, Voldemort popped into my mind today. Don't freak out and start demanding I send a letter to the Headmaster, I already did. But Hermione, what he said, it was just so confusing. I've been just so angry lately, especially after Sirius, and being with my relatives just makes it worse. But even worse than that is Voldemort popping up, urging my hatred. It's not just that, Hermione, the way he talked to me made me feel as I was just a child, a toy that he was getting tired of and wanted a real challenge. As much as it pains me to say it, Voldemort actually made me want to work, but I'm unsure, Hermione._

_He made some points, points about all these other witches and wizards that did amazing things before my age. I mean, the jerk even brought up Pettigrew! Saying how he was more of a threat because he actually managed the animagus transformation, which is more than I've ever done. But I want to get strong, Hermione, I want to get back at those that have hurt me and protect those I love. I'm just confused right now and can only talk to you about it._

_You know Ron, he's not exactly the most subtle guy and wouldn't think this through with me. I just need advice. Since this is getting_ _so long I'll stop here. Hope you enjoy your summer,_

_Harry_

Hermione made a sound of irritation. Harry really needed to learn to have more self confidence. Grabbing some parchment and ink, Hermione settled on making Harry see what he was missing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I was one messed up kid," Harry muttered, grinning with silent laughter.

He was holding up a drawing that showed the ripped up remains of his cousin with red crayon everywhere that was obviously blood. The picture made him laugh before looking at the next one. This one made him twitch a brow in thought, wondering why it looked so familiar. It was some type of underground thing with a green rock. Before he could even begin to think about it, Hermione glided through his open window and landed gracefully on his bed.

"Back so quickly," Harry murmured, stroking the white owl as he ripped the letter open.

_Harry,_

_How is your summer? There, I got you back as well, but on to more important matters. The Dark Lord in your head, for example? Harry, you know that Voldemort will do whatever needs to be done to get rid of the competition, and he clearly sees you as a threat, not as a child or toy. Did you ever think that Voldemort may want to fight an extremely powerful Harry Potter for appearances? Remember, when Voldemort lost to you, he lost a lot of support and resources. If he kills a normal teenager, his status will never change. That's probably why he wants you to become strong._

_Harry, I know that you are not at Dark Lord level (note the sarcasm), but that doesn't mean you aren't powerful. Harry, you are the most powerful of our year! Before you go on about me being the smartest or some other nonsense, you forget that my main point is theory, and yours is practical, the more important part of casting spells. Harry, you have always had a knack for understanding the spell once you've done it, even if you don't understand the theory. Just think back to third year and the Patronus charm. Who else could have done that? No one, Harry._

_Harry, you are very smart, just learn to apply yourself. I've sent a few ideas and notes to help you out. Don't forget that although practical is all well and good, the theory always counts! Please read these suggestions, they always help me. Now, aside from all this, I believe you, Ron and I should get together sometime. Perhaps a small trip to Diagon Alley. After all, it's not as if we have to go there just for school supplies._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Hermione_

Harry smiled softly, feeling incredibly fond of his female best friend. She really was a wonder at getting him to feel better. Looking at the notes she sent him, Harry felt a determination grow within him as he thought of what to do next.

Nodding, Harry wrote a quick thanks to Hermione and suggested that they could meet at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow with Ron. Harry sent the same invite to Ron, telling Hedwig to stay if Hermione needed to answer.

Watching Hedwig fly away, Harry's attention wandered back to the picture, wondering just what the heck the tunnel thing was and why the bush covering the entrance looked so familiar.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Ron, get up, Hedwig's here," Ginny snapped at her brother. "And it's already past noon."

Ron groaned as he sat up. "I was just taking a nap, no need to be so rude," he muttered, rubbing an eye.

Ginny just gave him a disdainful look before leaving.

Ron sighed irritably. _Women! _

"Heya, Hedwig," Ron greeted, knowing that the white owl was exceptionally smart.

Getting a cool response from the white owl made Ron think that even the female owl population was out to get him before he noticed Pig flying around Hedwig almost as fast, and small, as a snitch. Grabbing the happy owl, Ron threw the tiny thing out the window, ignoring his mother's scandalized, "Ronald Bilius!"

Reading the small messy note from his best mate, Ron took a small sip of orange juice before turning to his mother. "Hey, mum, Harry invited me to Diagon Alley to hang out with him and Hermione. I can go, right?"

"What? Absolutely not!"

"But, mum!"

"And who'll be watching you?" the Weasley patriarch demanded, leveling her son with a glare. "Just who will be there to make the three of you safe? You had better write to both Hermione and Harry that they will not be going."

"But aurors are standing guard at every entrance," Ron pleaded, "and even Mad-Eye is out of retirement. I heard Dumbledore mention wards had been added to Diagon Alley to keep it safe, so that should be enough."

Molly pursed her lips.

"That's fine, Ron," Mr. Weasley said, ignoring his wife's glare. "Just make sure you're responsible when you go, and don't get into any danger."

"Thanks, dad!" Ron said enthusiastically, already running off.

"Arthur!" Molly hissed. "Just what do you think you're doing? In such dark times, my baby…"

"Is growing up," Arthur said, giving her an affectionate hug. "We can't imprison our son, love. Ron is smart, he knows how to play it safe, and I trust the guards at Diagon Alley. Why, you should have seen so many going about in uniform!"

Molly still didn't look appeased.

"I seem to recall another young one always trying to go off and about," Arthur said, eyes sparkling.

His wife hit him fondly. "We were young, Arthur, and times were…"

"Were Gindelwald's time," Arthur interrupted patiently. "Be protective, Molly, but still allow your son to grow."

Mrs. Weasley could feel tears well up, wishing all of her children could have grown up in a none war world. She started cleaning the dishes by hand, preferring it to magic so she could let her thoughts stray.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Need… smoke," Harry said pathetically the next day, lying on the ground with his limbs crossed in odd places.

Hedwig only hooted at Harry, giving him a look that clearly told him he was an idiot.

"Oh, and I suppose you could live without your owl treats?" Harry demanded.

Hedwig just cooed slightly, giving him a superior look that said she didn't cave into her urges as easily as he.

"Yea, whatever," Harry mumbled getting up.

He grabbed his wand, which had been on top of some papers on his desk, and glanced at the colored pictures, once again wondering why they bothered him so much. Shrugging, Harry felt his pockets, just to be sure he had his small bag of wizard money, before nodding to himself and heading outside.

"I'll be gone all day," Harry said to his aunt, passing her by with a cold shoulder.

She said nothing, returning the gesture. Not caring, Harry raised his wand in the air and waited a few moments. Almost stumbling back in shock, for he felt he could never quite get used to it, the large, purple double-decker bus came to a stop in front of Harry.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, I'll be your host, Jenny. Where to?" A blond girl with a somewhat haughty look gave him a once over, clearly not thinking he was important enough.

"Diagon Alley," he said, getting the right amount of change.

"That'll be fifteen Sickles," the girl drawled.

Harry faltered. "You've gone up," he commented, grabbing a few more silver coins.

"With You-Know-Who back the Ministry has increased prices to help fight the war."

Harry nodded and handed over the money.

"No toothbrush?" she said, and Harry could tell she loathed her job. Not that he blamed her, having to ride in this crazy bus all day until night crew took over.

"No thanks," Harry said dryly, searching for a spot.

"Harry, I thought I'd catch you on here," a witch called, causing Harry to grin.

"Hermione," he said warmly, sitting on the bed next to her and grabbed her in a friendly hug.

"It's good to see you," Hermione beamed, grabbing hold of the railing, Harry doing the same as the bus took off. "This machine is simply monstrous," she commented with disdain, looking rather ruffled.

Harry, who had been knocked onto his back, could only nod in agreement.

"So how are you, really?" Hermione asked quietly, looking concerned.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to just say the normal 'fine' before stopping himself. He shrugged. "Getting better." Hermione beamed. "What?" he asked, slightly confused.

"You're getting better with telling others how you feel," she said softly, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

Harry returned the gesture and decided it was time to talk about something else. "So I got those notes of yours, and I have to say that they are brilliant. I've never thought of doing that before."

"You'll have to be more specific," Hermione teased. "I sent you quite a bit of notes."

"The one where you practice the incantation over and over and then the wand movements without actually doing the spell. Is that what you've always done during the summer?"

Hermione nodded. "It certainly helps."

"I'm sure." They stayed quiet for a moment before Harry turned to her. "Hermione…" He faltered.

"No, Harry, I don't think you're mental," Hermione told him with a smile.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Not what I was going to say, and I can't recall you ever being so blunt before."

Hermione gave an undignified sniff, which seemed more for show. "Well, hanging out with two boys for a few years is sure to have rubbed off on any girl."

Harry grinned. "Don't think you haven't rubbed off on me and Ron."

"Ron and I," Hermione commented.

"Ron and I," Harry amended, rolling his eyes. "But aside from that, I was going to ask a few other things, though I suppose they can wait until we're with Ron."

Hermione gave him a look. "Or you can tell me now."

Harry nodded, grinning at her lazily. "Well, first… I was thinking about what Voldemort said to me," he said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear, despite the bus being almost empty. "I think he made a forward challenge to me."

Hermione nodded sadly, looking away. She was very worried for her best friend. "Your letter said as much. What are you going to do?"

Harry stared. This was not the Hermione he knew. Usually the bright witch would demand he tell an adult and not worry about it.

"You've changed," Harry said quietly.

Hermione visibly flinched and rubbed the spot where she had been cursed. "We all did," Hermione mumbled. "I think that was the first time I truly realized Death Eater's would hurt an underage child."

Harry wrapped his arm around Hermione, pulling her close.

"We wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for you," Hermione said quietly, almost a whisper.

"Shush, Hermione," Harry soothed, rubbing her shoulders. "You all saved your own lives; you were the ones that fought."

Hermione buried her head into Harry's shoulder, body shaking with suppressed tears. "Not that, Harry, but what you did by teaching us and, well, I…"

"You know it's not enough," Harry finished. "Don't worry, Hermione, I know."

"Harry."

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry said gently, though firmly.

The rest of the ride passed in silence as the two pulled apart and waited patiently for the jerky bus to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully the ride was quick, even if uncomfortable, and the two teens exited the bus with rather ruffled looks.

"Ooh, I absolutely loath that bus," Hermione said, trying to straighten her frizzy hair.

Harry laughed at Hermione's indignant look. "Very nice look," he told her, dodging a swat.

"I hate to say this, mate," came Ron Weasley's voice, "but you don't look that much better." Ron gave them all a large grin. Thick scars littering his neck showed whenever his scarf pulled up, making Harry and Hermione feel disheartened. Ron noticed their looks and pulled his scarf closer. "Hey, now don't be giving any pity about a few scars, Harry. You already know enough about that."

Harry's grin became easier. "It's good to see you, mate."

"And you." The two clapped each other's back and Hermione gave Ron a tight hug, worrying over him.

"So how about some lunch?" Harry suggested.

"Read my mind," Ron said enthusiastically, already leading them into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Bet you a Galleon Ron has already ordered by the time we sit down," Harry whispered.

"Please, Harry, do remember who you're talking to."

Harry just chuckled and held the door open for her before letting himself in and sitting down next to Ron at a table.

"No front for a quick meal?" Harry asked.

"Believe me, it was a challenge to sit this far away from the food," Ron joked, rolling his eyes at Harry and giving him a nudge before looking serious, almost sullen. "I just suspected that we would all, you know, need to talk in private."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"So you've changed just as much," Hermione whispered, looking away.

Ron looked guilty, not wanting his friend to feel sad. "I suppose it's only natural, right? After what happened in the Department, I mean."

Harry bit the side of his cheek, otherwise looking cold.

"We should be having the others with us," Hermione said.

"Not yet," Harry answered immediately, sounding harsh before throwing Hermione an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but it needs to be just as, at least for the first time."

"I agree with Harry," Ron said, fingering the table for a moment.

Harry couldn't help but grimace at Ron's contemplative look. They were growing up too fast. It was as if their mentality was having trouble keeping up and making them confused.

They sat in silence, pondering what to say next when Tom suddenly came up to their table, giving an almost toothless smile. "What can I get for ye?"

Grateful for the interruption, they ordered. Hermione chose the soup, Harry got some chicken and Ron ordered, to their surprise, a large salad and a bowl of fruit on the side. The three of them also got butterbeers.

Ron stabbed his fork into his salad and was about to take a large bite before noticing the look on his friends face. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" Harry said, gesturing to his food. "Just look at what you're eating."

Ron glanced down, his eyebrows furrowing in realization. "Oh, yea. Well, it was actually something I was going to tell you later, you know when we talked, but I suppose I might as well now."

Harry and Hermione gave him an interested look.

Ron, looking a bit pleased by the attention, cleared his throat. "Well, remember the brain?"

"Hard to remember," Harry said, unable to hide his amusement. Despite the situation, Ron's brief moment of insanity had been hilarious now that they thought about it.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Right. See, when I woke up in the hospital, I couldn't exactly remember who I was."

"Go on," Hermione encouraged, never having known about this.

"I dreamt about the guy who, well, used to have the brain. It wasn't that hard to figure it out, since most of the memories were pretty fuzzy and easy to know that they weren't mine."

"So they weren't clear memories?" Harry asked, curious himself.

Ron shook his head. "No. The guy who had the brain was a crazy bloke by the name of Jarrett Cin. He took a lot of drugs, muggle I think because he used something called acid with a needle."

Harry and Hermione winced, knowing what Ron was talking about.

Ron nodded. 'Yea, nasty stuff. Well, he was actually a squib that tested some drugs in their experimental stage. Pretty nasty."

"And this has to do with your food because?" Harry asked.

"He was a vegetarian," Ron groaned, giving a begging look at some of the meat in Hermione's soup and Harry's chicken. "And as much as meat looks delicious to me, I keep throwing it up because the bastard's memories keep popping up and make me gag."

"So no more meat for you?" Harry asked, looking incredulous.

Ron shook his head frantically, looking horrified at the thought. "Thank Merlin no. The healers said the memories should start going away in another two weeks. I can last that long. Besides, this isn't that bad." To prove his point Ron took a bite.

Feeling both amused and sad for their friend, Hermione and Harry got started on their own food.

"So what's up with you two?" Ron asked, chewing with his mouth open and showing off a red strawberry.

Hermione gave him a cool look. His table manners obviously hadn't improved. "Harry and I had been discussing the Department earlier, and I believe we should all get what we need to say off our chest."

They both agreed to that.

"Who should start?" Ron asked, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, all I really have is what I just said, other than…"

"Other than wanting to get stronger," Harry finished, pushing his empty drink away. "If only we had a way to practice magic during the summer."

"Harry, you know that until you reach age majority you are not allowed magic outside of school," Hermione lectured.

"Actually, that isn't true," Ron said, surprising the two.

"Explain," Hermione demanded.

Ron gulped at Hermione's harsh tone. "Well, there are classes you can take at the Ministry." Ron screwed up his face for a moment. "I think to you guys it would sort of be like a muggle college. Fred and George took a business class once. Spent most of their savings, I reckon. Anyway, there are some classes that teach defense or certain branches of magic, only more focused than at Hogwarts."

"How come we haven't heard about this?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at the thought of knowledge being lost.

"I hate to say it, but it's pretty biased," Ron answered. "Purebloods already know about the classes offered, not that we could take any until we were fifteen. Not to say muggleborn's aren't allowed to take classes," Ron said quickly, seeing Hermione's narrowed look. "They even offer stuff about the muggle world. Dad took a class on cars."

"They actually teach you how to drive?" Harry asked with interest.

"Yea. You know how we have Ministry cars that have enchantments on them?" Hermione and Harry nodded. "Aurors have to take that class in the case of protecting some rich guy who owns a magical vehicle. The only reason why Dad's enchanted car was illegal was because it wasn't Ministry approved."

"Can you get a license?" Harry asked, perhaps just a little too quickly because Hermione gave him a shrewd look.

"You mean an I.D?" Ron asked. "Yea, you get those once you past the test and I think they have a charm on them to keep muggles from asking too many questions. Why, do you want one?"

"It would be helpful in the muggle world," Harry supplied. "But what's this about defense?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I barely know anything about the classes, not that I could afford it," Ron said the last part quietly.

Harry licked his lips. "I think I know a way to help you with that," Harry told his friend.

"I don't want any—"

"It's not charity," Harry snapped. "For gods sake, Ron, how long have we known each other?" Ron looked embarrassed and nodded apologetically. Harry sighed and continued. "Why don't you get a job? Fred and George were starting their joke shop soon, why don't you give them a call?"

Ron grinned excitedly. "Sounds brilliant, mate. You guys really want to do this?"

"Just a moment," Hermione interrupted. "We don't know anything about the classes offered and need to overview the options. Harry, do you even know if Dumbledore will let you do it?"

Harry looked rebellious for a moment, scowling. "Probably not," he muttered.

To his surprise, Hermione didn't start telling him that Dumbledore was only doing it for his safety. He soon realized that she had only told him to make him think about it.

"Well, I suggest you find out information and build up a case," Hermione said, smiling at Harry's and Ron's stunned expression. She stood up and dropped a few Knuts for a tip. "Well?" They stood. "Ron, lead the way. You know where to go."

Glancing at his bemused friend, Ron grunted and led the way toward the phone booth that would take them to the Ministry of Magic.

"How did we get from discussing the Department of Mysteries to actually going to the Ministry?" Ron whispered as the magical telephone booth lowered them into the building.

"No idea," Harry said. "Just go with it, mate."

Ron nodded and stepped out of the booth. "So where to?"

Harry and Hermione groaned. "You were the one leading us, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Not like I know this place real well," he muttered.

Harry looked around thoughtfully, taking in the gossiping withes and wizards as they passed to different rooms. He even noticed one man leading a giant brown lizard into a fountain by a leash and disappearing with a small splash. He also saw a security guard. Bingo.

"Let's just ask for directions," Harry said, already walking over and not waiting for a reply. Without a word, the other two followed. "Excuse me," Harry said politely, coughing softly to get the man's attention.

The guard, who wore blue robes with a badge that had the letter A on it, turned to them with a gruff look. He was obviously an Auror. "Yes?"

"My friends and I were just wondering where we could find information about summer classes at the Ministry," Harry said politely, leaving his face a careful neutral, though not too blank.

"Check the information booth," the auror said irritably. "I'm a guard, not a tour guide."

Harry felt his lip curl with disdain. "No one said you were," he said coolly. "Thanks for the information, however." He turned away swiftly to the girl at the front desk and away from the brown haired guard.

"Really, how rude!" Hermione said irritably, throwing the guard a small glare. "All we wanted were directions."

"Let it o, Hermione," Ron said, smiling brightly. He was very amused to see Hermione so ruffled. Glancing at Harry, Ron felt a grimace as he saw Harry cold look. His best friend truly had terrifying looks when he was angry.

"Hello," Harry said, giving a small bright smile, masking his discomfort from the guard.

The girl looked up, smiling back sweetly. She even fluttered her eyes a little at the sight of such a handsome young man. "What can I do for you?" she asked sweetly. "Do you dears need to check in? I can take your wands here."

Harry nodded. "Yes, please. Also, we are looking into summer Ministry classes. You wouldn't happen to know where we can find information about it, do you?" He gave her a charming smile.

Her face brightened immediately, eyes even becoming a bit starry eyed. Of course it was also because she noticed his scar. "Of course, Mr. Potter!" she all but squeaked. "We are actually hosting our Class Fair this week. You've come at a good time, for there are only two more days left before they close and classes start."

"And where can we find this rush?" Hermione asked.

"Rush?" Ron mouthed to Harry.

"The same as fair," Harry whispered.

"If you actually take a step into that fountain over there," the woman said, pointing at the same fountain Harry saw the man with the lizard walk into, "you will be transported into a hallway. Go into the first door on the left. It's not that hard to miss."

"Thank you," the three muttered.

"And I do hope you have a good day, Mr. Potter," she said quietly, almost seductively.

Harry gave her a small smile before turning away in embarrassment, hoping no one would notice his exasperated and slightly red face.

"She was sweet," Hermione said to him after they used the fountain portal. Her smile told Harry she knew exactly what that girl had been thinking.

Harry gave her an irritated look. "I hate fans," he muttered, earning a giggle from his two friends. Grinning ruefully, Harry cast one last glance at the fountain. It was simple, with several poles shooting out water. It made him wonder what happened to the main fountain that Dumbledore and Voldemort had dueled at.

"Wow, I guess it really is hard to miss," Ron said, gazing around the slightly chaotic room. "I wish we had known about this last year."

"Same," Harry said, looking about. There were tiny tents per class all over the large room. There were dozens of classes, each one having an interesting advertisement. Harry even saw the man with the giant lizard hosting a Magical Creature's class.

"Look at them all!" Hermione said excitedly, nearly bouncing up and down. "Oooh! Come on, let's look around." She linked elbows with Ron and Harry and started to drag them around, talking the whole time with excitement.

"Look, there's the defense class," Ron said with just as much excitement as Hermione, this time being the one to lead them by their linked arms.

"Hey, check it out. It' Tonks," Harry said, noticing the spiky purple color haired witch handing out flyers.

"Do you think she'll be teaching?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Let's check it out."

"Auror classes. Come get yer auror classes," Tonks called out, voice sounding incredibly bored. "Aur—hey, you guys!" Her face immediately brightened and the dark purple in her hair turned bright yellow. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you lot here." She leaned in close, whispering, "Does anybody know you're here?"

"There parents," Harry said coolly, nodding to Hermione and Ron. He certainly didn't like people wondering if he constantly had a keeper following his movements. "So these are auror classes?" Harry asked.

"Thinking of joining?" Tonks asked.

"You bet!" Ron said excitedly. "Where do we sign up?"

"Down, boy," Tonks laughed. "Before you go signing up for anything, you'd best find out what each class entails. AS much as I wish you could sign up for auror classes, but this is only for seventh years and above to those that might want a career in it."

They looked disappointed.

"Hey, now. There're still dueling classes you can sign up for, don't get all down," Tonks said brightly. "Now why don't you go find out about them, yea?"

Thanking her, Tonks waited until the three were gone and turned to her partner that had been in the shadows.

"Did Dumbledore know about Harry leaving the Dursley's?" she whispered.

Kinsley shook his head. "I received no word, though I do know that Potter was already in Diagon Alley. The patrollers already alerted me about it. I've made sure he's had a guard, unknown to him of course. Mad-Eye was ready to wring the poor lad's ears out for showing up in such a populated area without a watcher."

Tonks sighed. "I really do feel bad for him, but I do know it's for his own good. Oh, well. Auror classes! Get your auror classes…"

Over with the golden trio, they had decided to split up, each being attracted to different things. Hermione had found a Charms Mistress that taught a class to those who wished to make their own spells. This class was also a required class to those who wished to become Unspeakables. Ron was drawn to the dueling tent right away. Harry had stayed for only a moment, disliking the man who taught it immediately. He had become star struck immediately, and that was something Harry absolutely did not want to deal with.

So now he was wandering, idly looking at a tent that hosted Quidditch classes. He smiled softly, thinking he would like to give this a shot in the future. Moving away, he browsed other courses, courses that he had never thought had existed before. There was a jewelry making class that taught how to embroider magic into a necklace or ring. This was also how cursed items were made.

"Harry Potter," a smooth voice said quietly, causing Harry to jump.

He turned and saw a lone woman leaning back in a chair with a book propped in her hand. Despite her seemingly lazy stance, she still seemed to be able to hold herself up importantly, looking as if she deserved to be elsewhere. The tent she sat alone at said Politics on the top.

"Yes?" he asked cautiously.

She smiled at him softly, looking warm and welcoming though still looking predatory. Harry had a feeling she was letting him see a dangerous side to her on purpose. "Do you have an interest in politics?" she asked politely.

Now that had Harry taken aback. "No, I can honestly say I haven't," he said.

"Hmm." Her eyes traveled back to her book, though they didn't move at all with the words. "That is disappointing."

Harry felt a stab of annoyance. It was quite irritating when people already made opinions of what he could and could not do before even meeting him. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked instead, forcing his tone to be polite.

Her eyes narrowed in acceptance, making Harry believe he just passed a test. "You are able to cool your emotions… Very good." Harry gave her an annoyed look. "Well, perhaps not facial emotions." She finally put her book away and stared at him. "My name is Ailin Lavern, and you asked me if there was something I wanted. What I want, Mr. Potter, is a student. Politics are taught from parent to child, the Ministry rarely ever having a student except out of curiosity. For the past three years there have been no curious children."

"And this has to do with me because?" Harry asked, wondering if she was just another annoying fan trying to get him into her class.

"You are aware that you are the Potter heir, correct?" she asked.

Harry gave her a look that clearly said she was stupid. "Yes, Mrs…?"

"Ms. Lavern," she corrected softly, looking over Harry carefully. Harry looked her over as well, taking in her light brown hair and light blue eyes.

"Yes, I am aware that I am the Potter heir," Harry said.

"Very good." Ms. Lavern leaned back, resting her hands on her knee. "And are you aware of your duties?"

This time Harry faltered. "Duties?" he repeated, making his face neutral. He didn't want this stranger to see that he clearly hadn't thought about the Potter name at all.

"Yes, duties, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "Duties that have to do with becoming Lord Potter and taking over the family name, not to mention the seat in the Wizengamot."

Harry could tell she was pleased when his face gave way to shock for the briefest moment. He had a seat? What else did he have? Surely Dumbledore would have told him, or perhaps he had been waiting until he was of age.

"Heirs usually do not take up responsibilities until they are of age," Ms. Lavern continued. "However, in cases such as yours earlier training is required." She had a thoughtful look on her face. "Surely you knew of this, of course. After all, the Potters have been a large part of European Ministry for almost as long as Hogwarts has been standing. It is each heir's responsibility to know his or her family legacy."

Now that stung. Harry didn't have a clue about what his family did. He felt a grimace coming on. "And I suppose you wish to teach me about the Potter legacy?" he asked carefully, searching the woman. Why was he considering this? He wasn't even interested in politics.

"Of course not," she said with the same fake voice as Umbridge. "I will be teaching my student how to become a politician. Outside review work to further your future in politics is up to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry thought about it. "What exactly I so important about the heirs going into politics?"

This time Ms. Lavern laughed, showing true amusement. "Oh, Mr. Potter! Really, you do interest me. Not all heirs do only politics. They have other lives as well. It is the duty of the heir, and Lord and future Lord of course, that the family name is carried on and still known." She searched him again. "Did you by any chance know that it was the Potters that were the first to create a magical barrier against vampires?"

Harry blinked at that. "No," he said softly. "I didn't."

Ms. Lavern nodded. "Oh, yes. "A man of the name Alfred Potter was the first in your family to make the barrier. His son, Silian, was the one who perfected it and soon lead generations of Potters into the vampire hunting division in the Ministry. They were the first to create such a group, for all vampire hunters of that time were loners."

Harry was falling for her words quickly and found himself wanting to know more. Still, he knew that she was manipulating him with words about his family and that was luring him in. He couldn't afford that.

"And how will this class benefit me?"

Her smile was true and pleased. "I will simply teach you how to act like a politician, as said before. How to hold yourself like the young Lord you were meant to be, Mr. Potter. Sooner or later, your Lord status will force you to take action, even if you do not wish to. With this class you will be prepared and not be so easily manipulated by your enemies."

Harry bit his lip. Did he really have to some political work in the future, all because he was the Potter heir? "I need to think about it," he said.

Ms. Lavern smiled at him reassuringly. "Of course, Mr. Potter. Here is a packet retaining information on my class. As you have no magical guardian, you are not required a signature if you wish to pursue this class. Do look it over." She handed it to him. Harry took the small bundle carefully; feeling as if he had just willingly drank a bottle of poison.

"Thank you," Harry said out of politeness. He walked away quickly, still biting his lip. He found Hermione and Ron conversing with the Dueling class instructors. He waited a good ways away, not wanting the star struck teachers to get everybody's attention. Seeing that they were taking awhile, Harry wandered again, this time picking up a packet about a different dueling class. He was pleased that the teacher, an old but strict looking man with gray hair, didn't look at him any differently.

"Hey, Harry, you won't believe these classes," Ron said, shoving his packet into Harry's face.

Smiling at his friend, Harry read through the packet, impressed with what the class had to offer. Aside from learning new spells, it also included physical workout, strategist methods and other such things.

"What have you got?" Ron asked, grabbing Harry' two packets. His nose curled. "Politics," he said unenthusiastically. "So you're finally going to take up the Potter ancestry?"

Harry stared at Ron carefully. "You knew?" he asked quietly, leading the two away from the crowd.

Ron blinked in surprise. "Er, what?"

Harry sighed impatiently. "You knew that I had to go into politics just because I'm an heir?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Not go into politics," he said slowly. "But take care of whatever duties that are thrust onto you." He gave Harry a queer look. "You didn't know?" he asked.

Harry curled a fist and snarled, "Of course not, Ron. How could I have known? I've lived with muggles my whole life. The only bit I know about the Wizarding world is what I've learned at Hogwarts." He turned to Hermione. He was surprised to see her hand over her mouth with a look of horror. "Did you know too?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Harry, of course I knew," she said, looking horribly distraught.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"We thought you knew, mate," Ron said, unconsciously fixing his scarf to cover his scars better. "All main pureblood heirs, such as yours, hold that kind of responsibility. It's just such common knowledge to those born in the wizarding world it's just kind of hard to forget muggleborns don't know." He searched Harry. "I at least thought Dumbledore would fill you in on what you needed to know about being the Potter heir."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Do you think I should do it?" Harry finally asked.

Ron cracked an easy grin, surprising the two. "So long as you don't become like Fudge."

Harry grinned back. "Not a chance, mate."

"You two," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "But just think about it, Harry. If you do this, you could make such changes. I know how much you hate your status, but if the Boy-Who-Lived talked about equal right for werewolves and house elves, it would really make people think."

"Only you, Hermione," Harry teased. "So what else have you got?"

Ron pulled his packet out. "Just this dueling class," he said. "I don't think I could pay for it, though."

Hermione took it. "62 galleons and five sickles," she said, knowing how poor Ron's family was. "Ron, this should equal to at least two months worth of pay if you get a job at minimum wage," she said seriously. Just ask for a job from the twins, like Harry said."

Ron brightened. "You think I could make this in two months?" he asked excitedly before frowning. "If this is worth two months pay, why doesn't dad make more?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. "Well, it could be because your father works a part of Ministry that isn't well funded or important," Hermione guessed carefully. "You do have a lot in your family, Ron, not to mention the land you own. Expenses to pay for all of you, as well as taxes, aren't exactly cheap."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "I wish I knew how this tax thing worked."

Both Harry and Hermione felt some relief as he said that. "Just ask your dad," Harry suggested, slinging his arm around Ron.

"So what about you?" Ron asked.

"I don't know if I'll take it or not," Harry said. "I still haven't checked the prices or the days for these two classes. They may not work out together."

Hermione took his packets and looked excited. "Oh, Harry! You simply must take this dueling class. The teacher is Hansel Harsen." Ron and Harry snickered at the name. Hermione gave them a disapproving glare. "He was a famous dueling champion back in his day. He and Professor Flitwick even fought against each other."

"He really must have been a good dueler," Harry commented, thinking about the stories and rumors about his tiny professor.

"These two classes don't bother at all. Your dueling class is only twice a week, but it's an all day class. Saturday and Sunday," Hermione said thoughtfully. She looked at his politics packet. "Are you sure you want to take this class?"

"Not like it would hurt," Harry said. "What days is it?"

"Tuesday through Thursday," Hermione said. It is a five hour long class from 9:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m."

That works out," Harry said, stuffing his hands in his pocket. To his surprise and delight, he could feel two cigarettes that had been forgotten about. That made him remember the license he needed.

"I think I need one more thing," Harry said.

Hermione and Ron gave him a confused look.

"A license," he said sweetly, strolling over to the muggle studies class. "Excuse me," he said politely, "but do you know if this class also gives a driver's license?"

A young man with curly blond hair didn't even look up from his magazine. "Another muggleborn? We don't offer it in this study class, but can sign you up for a week of car driving practice before giving a test. If you pass you get a license for the muggle world that permits you to drive nonmagical cars. Magical cars is for the aurors only."

"When does that class start?" Harry asked.

"If I were to sign you up now a one on one tutor would be assigned to you for a week for four hours a day on your time."

"Is there any other way to get a license?" Harry asked.

"Not to drive a car," the boy drawled. "Though I suppose you could do it the muggle way, but that takes over a year."

"Which is much safer," Hermione said sternly, completely aghast that they would allow someone out on the road without any real practice.

The boy shrugged. "You can get a passport when you are of age."

"So no regular I.D." Harry drawled, giving the boy a distasteful look, wishing he would be a bit more informative.

Again the boy shrugged. "Do you take the Knight Bus?"

This threw them all for a loop before nodding.

"Then I suggest you take this class," he said. "The Knight Bus is going to stop running soon in a little over a week."

"But how will stranded witches or wizards get anywhere?" Ron demanded. "And why is it stopping?"

"Word is Fudge is scared Death Eater's could use the bus to their advantage and launch an attack since it can pretty much take you anywhere."

Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous looks. "I already have a license and can borrow my mom's car," she said hesitantly.

"And picking me up and then coming back to Diagon Alley is too much of a hassle, especially with our different classes," Harry said back, indicating to the Spell class she wished to take. It was simply a class that taught you how to do spells, much like class, though with a variety.

"Could you use Floo?" Hermione suggested.

Harry thought about it. "I could ask Mrs. Figg," he said. "But I haven't seen her in a while. I think she's out of town."

"Your relatives…"

Harry's dark look shut her up. "They would never do a thing for me."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, why do you even want an I.D? I know you had no interest in driving before now."

"I need it for some stuff in the muggle world," Harry said, sounding unconcerned. "My business, Hermione."

Hermione looked ready to argue before sighing in defeat. "I suppose you really have no choice. Or you could just ask Dumbledore to send somebody to come get you."

"I won't b wasting anybody's time," Harry said, grabbing a packet and walking off with his two friends following him.

"And what about a car?" Hermione asked. "Cars cost money, Harry. And let's not forget about insurance or gas."

"Hermione," Ron said, looking at her funny. "Harry's sort of rich, you know."

Harry sometimes wondered why he forgot about that, especially when he had to grab from piles of gold in Gringotts at least once a year.

"Fine!" Hermione huffed, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You go buy yourself a car with no idea how to drive and waste all your money."

"Hermione," Harry said sternly.

Hermione sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, it's just…"

"Stress," Harry finished for her.

"I don't blame you," Ron said. "I mean, bloody hell, I never even thought about an attack from the Knight Bus."

Harry sighed. "The war is getting bigger, mate."

Ron was silent for a moment. "I hate to say it, but maybe you having some say in the Ministry could sway some to our side and fight You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort," Harry corrected, ignoring the flinches from his friends and from those who heard. "I don't know, Ron. I think right now I'll only focus on fixing whatever problems I have because of my family before leaving it alone."

His friends nodded in understanding.

Harry smiled at them, hoping to lighten the mood. "Come on, let's go get an ice cream."


	3. Chapter 3

"I swear I still had another two packs…" Dudley carried on mumbling profanities, angry that he lost his cigarettes. "Last time I leave them here," he continued. "Dad probably took them…"

Unknown to Dudley, Harry was currently smoking the very cigarettes he was looking for. Two days had passed since the class rush at the Ministry. He still hadn't signed up for anything, though he knew had to make the dead line in the next five hours. He still had plenty of time to be thinking it over.

"So what should I do, girl?" Harry asked to his owl.

Hedwig, who was currently sitting in front of his open window to avoid the smoke, snapped her beak angrily. Harry was pretty sure she was saying get the hell out of here and now.

Harry chuckled as he picked up his packets, each one signed in the proper place. "As much as I want to leave now, dear old Dumbledore said he would like to have a word. I suppose he's just waiting for the last moment…" Harry felt irritation at that as he took a tiny drag this time and breathed out through his nose. He could always taste the flavor better that way.

Glancing at his still broken watch, Harry clucked his tongue. Ignoring the watch and, instead of throwing it out like a smart person, Harry headed downstairs and checked the kitchen clock. It was noon. Dumbledore had told him he would meet with him at noon. Luckily his relatives were out, aside from Dudley of course, so that made Harry feel a bit more at ease.

Just as noon was about to pass by in a single second, the door bell rang. Opening it, Harry felt his lips twitch in amusement. His Headmaster stood in front of him in maroon robes with butterflies embroidered into them. Muggles passed by without even a glance his way, telling Harry that a notice-me-not charm had been cast.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling softly. "How are you on this fine day?"

Really shitty, actually. "Just fine," Harry answered, putting out his cigarette on an ash tray he had bought for the front room. It was designed to look like a turtle. He often put bits of candy and mints on it to hide its true use to the Dursley's before cleaning it. It was sad, really.

Dumbledore eyed the squashed cig with a small amount of disappointment before masking it quickly. "If I am correct, you wish to pursue Ministry classes, yes?" Straight to the point, then.

Harry nodded. "One dueling class, one for driving and one for politics." Harry looked away thoughtfully, his hand under his chin. "You know, I find it strange that a complete stranger was the one to inform me that as Potter heir, I have quite a few responsibilities in the future." Green eyes pierced blue thoughtfully, with only the smallest signs of anger.

Dumbledore tilted his head, knowing that Harry was demanding the truth. "It was always my intention, my boy, for you to have grown up with a happy childhood."

Harry folded his hands, trying to imitate the woman, Ms. Lavern, at the politic class tent. "While you have many times told me you intent on giving me a happy childhood, you still have yet to tell me why you have kept information away."

Dumbledore pierced him with a look. "Do you truly believe a child would have been happy to learn nothing but politics and have no joy? To sit in an office back straight instead of outside where he belongs?"

It's not like he had that either. Harry sighed. "I understand what you were trying to do, Headmaster," he said, just a bit too impatiently. "And I understand now why you kept the prophecy from me." He winced a bit, throwing an apologetic look in the Headmaster's direction.

"It is quite alright, my boy," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "All is forgiven, and I really must thank you. I had been planning to clean out that office of mine for years."

That still didn't help Harry feel any better. "Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "Did you ever think that while I might have had a happy childhood, me not learning about my family responsibilities could have led to a miserable adulthood? I could have destroyed everything the Potters worked for."

"Believe me when I say this, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, sitting back on Uncle Vernon's chair completely, "I do not regret a single thing. It is true you have not had the best childhood I could have wished for, but I am pleased to say I have been able to watch you grow into a fine young man. I know that you would grow into your responsibilities just fine."

Harry felt a tick coming on. "That's nice, Headmaster, but there's a difference between believing you can do something before actually doing it." He leaned back on his chair in thought. He would need to be bold. "I'm not asking, I'm just warning you that I will be taking these classes," Harry said at last, feeling oddly good as he saw Dumbledore's sparkle go out a bit at his wording. "As you are so interested in my safety, which I am very grateful for, that you actually demand I fill you in on every tid bit of my life? No one asked you to interfere, you chose to." Harry gave him a cool look. "I cannot sit around twiddling with my fingers and waiting for Voldemort to come."

Dumbledore beamed, surprising Harry. "I am very proud of you, Harry," he said softly. "You have every right to make these decisions, and I fully support you. I also believe you are warning me that you would be leaving Private Drive quite often at random occurrences?"

Harry nodded.

"I take it you have not heard about the Knight Bus, then?"

"No, I heard about it," Harry said, not the least bit concerned. "That's why I'm taking these driving lessons."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled brightly. "Then I wish you luck, Harry. If you wish for any help, do not be afraid to ask."

"Right." Well, this conversation hadn't been that bad.

"As I am already here, would you like to have me escort you to the Leaky Cauldron? I have the utmost craving for Tom's famous flubberworm soup." Harry made a face as Dumbledore held out his hand. "You do have to turn in your acceptance letters, do you not?" he asked with amusement.

"Yea." Harry gave a grunt as he stood. "Hang on a sec, need to go grab my stuff." Running up the stairs, Harry was amused to see Dudley still searching for his two missing packets. Grabbing his wand and Gringotts key, Harry met back with Dumbledore and took his hand, not surprised by how firm his old Headmaster's grip was.

"All set?" Dumbledore asked, hairy mouth lifting into a smile. The way his beard and mustache moved always amused Harry.

"Ready."

With a crack, the two disappeared and reappeared in the Leaky Cauldron entrance. Dumbledore held Harry still to keep him from falling.

"I hate wizarding travel," Harry muttered, even though he was still happy to save several sickles.

"I wish you luck, though I bid you to use every ounce of caution," Dumbledore said seriously. "Also, I wish to suggest a letter to Remus. The poor man has been rather gray these days."

"Why doesn't he just send a letter to me?" Harry asked in surprise.

Dumbledore looked at him in sorrow. "He is grieving, Harry, and I hope you will be patient with him."

Harry gave the Headmaster a strange look. Dumbledore merely patted him on the shoulder affectionately before calling out to Tom warmly for a nice bowl of soup.

Unable to stop staring at his strange Headmaster for a moment, Harry turned away. He had been in mourning too, and he dealt with it his way. Remus probably needed the same thing. Besides, it took until he was thirteen before Remus even made contact, and that had been until the end of the year.

Entering Gringotts Harry was pleased to see not many people were in line. As it was still the middle of summer it wasn't quite as busy. Waiting patiently, Harry was finally met with a sneering green goblin with a few spikes on his cheeks and boils on his nose. All in all, the grumpy creature wasn't the most pleasant of company as Harry held on tight to the rails of the speeding cart. Walking into his vault, Harry looked at his money.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to get a specific amount into this bag, would you?" Harry asked, pointing at his brown pouch.

"How much?" the goblin asked with impatience.

"207 galleons, 7 sickles and 25 knuts," Harry said, remembering that was the exact price for all of his classes put together.

He really hoped he had enough. Too his surprise it didn't even take out a tiny chunk in his piles of gold. Placing the brown pouch in his pocket, he took out another, smaller pouch and began to gather more money into that as spending money. When he felt satisfied, Harry nodded to the goblin and they were once again speeding away on the cart, only this time to the top. At least this time Harry saw a tiny peak of a solid white dragon. That had been interesting.

"Thank you for stopping at Gringotts bank, do return soon," the goblin said, not even looking at Harry as he went back to work.

"Thanks," Harry muttered dryly, completely out of earshot before walking out into the sunny alley. Making a beeline toward one of the Ministry entrances, Harry could honestly say he was starting to feel a bit more in control.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"We have another alert for underage magic," Madam Bones told her aurors in a grim voice. "It was two disarming spells and a few Reductors. All of them dueling spells and you know what that means."

There were a few nods from the assembled aurors.

"You have your orders and location," Madam Bones said, face becoming hard. "Go and save those people. I want whoever is attacking them to be behind bars before the hour is up."

"Yes, ma'am!" the group shouted, apparating away quickly.

"You know, this could just be some kid showing off to his parents," John, the spell watcher for underage children, said weakly.

"Don't be a fool," John, Madam Bones said, completely weary. "The first three children this summer were ignored with a letter, much to our stupidity, and look where that ended up. In a six foot ditch." Madam Bones sighed. "John, is Fudge still trying to maintain strict rules over the underage spell law?"

"Yes."

"As I thought. John, we are in the middle of war here."

John started stuttering. A… w…war, ma'am?"

"Yes, John, a war," the director said seriously, almost loudly. "We need to talk with the Wizengamot about this. Magic should be allowed, but still under the Secrecy Act. These children need all the time they can to study and learn." Madam Bones gave John a shrewd look. "Well, get going on that!" she barked. "And alert all aurors that I want to see them in my office. We will be having patrollers in the muggle world as well since that is where most attacks are located."

"Madam Bones, are sure that wise?" John asked carefully.

"Do you doubt my judgment, John?"

"N…No! Of course not! But I still don't think…"

"Save your thoughts for yourself," Bones snarled. "The muggle world still lives within our society as well. Are we barbarians, John?"

"What? Absolutely not!" John said, this time with irritation. He was a pureblood, after all. Not some disgusting squib or muggleborn.

"Good, then get going. We won't leave others to torture when we can help." Watching John scramble away, Madam Bones sighed as she gathered herself and left the tense office.

The Dark Lord's attacks had become more and more frequent, putting everyone edge. There had been some improvement, yes, but certainly not enough. She had gotten that old fool Dumbledore to force that miserable excuse of a potions master to accept students even with an E. Really, because of that man there were barely enough numbers in the auror squad because they couldn't get into N.E.W.T level potions, and few actually bothered to hire a tutor and take a different test.

She also had Mad-Eye Moody back, helping the new recruits. His strict teaching was turning her young aurors into fine soldiers. Azkaban had finally gotten the new wards it so very much needed, as well as Animagus wards. She had been appalled to learn that there had been no such wards in the first place and wondered if that was how so many had started breaking out.

"Ah, Amelia," a voice greeted jovially.

"Minister," Amelia greeted coolly.

"_Hem, Hem._"

"Madam Umbridge," Amelia greeted, even cooler than before.

"I noticed that we just dispatched a group of aurors to help out a lad in trouble," Fudge said, shifting a bit.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Surely you don't have a problem with helping our citizens, do you, Minister?" she asked carefully, already beginning to walk towards her office.

"No, no, of course not," he said with a laugh before turning serious eyes on her. "But I would, you know, like to keep this under the table, if you know what I mean. No need for the Prophet to get word of so many attacks."

"Of course not," Amelia said, wondering why she had to work for this man. "There is no need to cause a panic."

"Of course, of course," Fudge agreed happily.

"However, the press will need to alert the citizens that there are some attacks being made and precautions should be made."

Fudge's happy persona was gone in an instant. "Now, Amelia," he said patronizingly. "Like you said, there's no need to cause a panic." He gave her a tight lipped smile. "The Ministry has already made such vast improvements! Why, You-Know-Who should have quite the time getting one over us."

Impatient, Amelia nearly snapped at him but managed to restrain herself. "Minister, if you do not proceed to take actions, then know that I will. While the public doesn't need to know every single detail, they certainly deserve to know what's going on and deserve to know that they need to prepare just as much as the Ministry. We are not the ultimate safety blanket, Minister," Amelia said icily. "So either start helping out, or stay out of the way."

"Now, now, Madam Bones," Umbridge said sweetly, her cheek twitching sometime from a side effect of her counseling for the attack of the Centaurs. "While doing everything one can for the Ministry, I believe you need to remember just who exactly who you are talking to. Just disrespect to the Minister doesn't exactly improve one's image, hmm?" Umbridge's eyes were cold, despite the sugary façade.

"And I believe you need to remember your place as well, Undersecretary," Amelia said disdainfully. "I am still Head of Law Enforcement, and thus it is my duty to protect our people." She gave them each a cold stare. "I still have much work to do. Good day."

"Good day," Fudge returned, watching Madam Bones disappear. He leaned close to his Undersecretary. "I want this problem fixed," he whispered harshly.

Madam Umbridge smiled that ugly, sweet smile of hers. "Of course, Minister."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"This is quite a load," Harry moaned, glad he at least had his satchel with him to carry his books. He had gotten two books on dueling, one small manual about driving and one extremely thick book on proper etiquette. This would apparently help him with politics.

Glancing around Diagon Alley in case he wanted to quickly purchase something, Harry didn't see anything of interest for the moment. All he really wanted to do was get back to the Dursley's and start reading up on his dueling class. Harry was truly excited about it.

Leaving through the Leaky Cauldron, and not seeing Dumbledore in sight, Harry summoned the Knight Bus and was taken back to the Durlsey's.

"Went up another two sickles," Harry muttered. "I'll be broke if I keep going on that thing." He was immensely glad about his driving class and even almost excited about that as his dueling class. It must have been the part of him that grew up in the muggle world that really wanted to drive like every teenage boy.

"But how the hell do I find a car?" Harry mused, striking up another cigarette, idly hoping he doesn't start smoking at least two packs a day like some people. Two or three was all he wanted.

Settling on his desk, Harry placed his satchel on the ground and began organizing. Picking up his childhood drawings, Harry once again came upon the strange drawing with the hole, bush and rock. The rock made him feel like he had lost something important while he knew he had seen that bush before.

"I know I've seen buttonbush somewhere," he muttered before shrugging. "Oh well. Now let's see… Wands: Weapon or Not? It's Your Choice… Sounds good."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_He was writing in journal again, writing about his new Take. It truly was a wonderful one, almost as good as the CD player. Dudley had fallen in love with the blasted thing_, _making him want it more._

"_I finally took Dudley's gameboy," he said with a grin, taking out a smooth, green stone from his pocket and stroking it fondly. It was almost dark, but that didn't stop him as he wandered the tiny forest in the park._

_Stopping in front of the buttonbush, he jumped down a hole that had been hidden perfectly. Crawling down, he set down his green stone before picking up a rougher, less important rock. Raising it above his head, he smiled._

"_You broke my arm, I break your things," he said, smile turning into a nasty grin before the rock was smashed down with anger, almost as if it was being used to commit murder._

_And all the while, he laughed…_

Harry sat up with a gasp. Fumbling for his glasses, Harry warily walked into the bathroom before turning on the sink and drinking from the water in huge gulps.

"One twisted dream," he muttered.

He had been nothing more than a child in his dream, but the look on his face had left him wary. He had even felt the emotions he new his dream self felt. It was elation and dark pleasure at being able to destroy something precious of his cousins. He also remembered disappointment and not being able to do it to his cousin, not that Harry could blame dream self. Dudley had broken his arm!

"Huh, take…" Harry said with amusement, already back in his room. "A take," he said again, holding up his cigarettes. He stared at it for a moment before shutting his eyes in frustration, trying to remember what he was missing and why that was so familiar. "A take… A freakin' take," he kept mumbling, now glaring at the smokes before his eyes snapped to the drawing.

He picked it up, looking from object to object. Realization settled in like a kick to the gut.

"No," he breathed. "Not a take, but a _Take_."

Even though it was basically the same word, Harry knew the difference, especially as he stared down at the drawing. He couldn't remember everything, but he knew enough. Grabbing a shirt and stuffing his shoes on and stuffing his wand in his pocket, Harry rushed outside as quietly as possible, not even caring it was still 4:30 in the morning.

As he ran to the park and through the tiny forest and stood in front of the buttonbush, Harry wondered how the hell he could have forgotten something so seemingly important to him.

Ripping the bush away, Harry crawled down the hole, grunting as he did so. It was incredibly tight. Getting back out, Harry started digging with his hands to make it wider. It took no more than twenty minutes with the rush he was in. Once again going down the hole, Harry gasped, a series of flashbacks and memories hitting him. Falling to his knees in front of the bones, Harry tossed them away without a care.

There it was. There was his stone. His effing stone that was so important to him.

Picking it up, Harry thought he felt a tiny spark, almost like when he touched his wand. Stroking it, Harry felt sick as he felt cold realization. He had put himself into this rock. He had put his goddamn emotions into this rock and made it a part of himself.

Harry remembered hearing about some wizarding children that did that with very special objects when they were young. Even those in counseling did this, trying to put good and happy emotions into their item. It was something that was linked to that person, but not forever or even for that long. It was also supposed to bring a sort of hope that whatever tough situation they were in would get better.

Harry knew that you were only supposed to put good emotions into the item while consciously giving said item magic. What Harry had done was put _all _his emotions into this rock, especially, and mostly, bad ones. It felt as if a part of him had been reunited with himself.

Staring at the rock, Harry could only say, "I wonder how messed up this could turn out."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Yea, so a shorter chapter but Harry finally remembered his stone. You have some clue as to why this stone is important to Harry, but not the full picture. After all, this might not even be true. Harry could only _think _it's true.

So, yea! Review!


	4. Chapter 4

"Proper etiquette and all that shit is definitely the reason the Slytherin's are so uptight," Harry said with amusement as he clutched his rock in his left hand. His right was currently holding the book that would help him in politics. He hadn't let the rock go at all that day, feeling a strong attachment to the thing.

He had also found his journal and all the Takes, or Prizes, that he had collected. It bothered Harry that he had forgotten such an important event in his life. Wondering if anyone else had forgotten things after going to Hogwarts, Harry had dug up Hermione's telephone number and gave her a ring, asking if she had forgotten anything when she was young.

Hermione had been confused at first and demanded questions, which he would not answer, before finally giving in. She had apparently also forgotten a few simple things when she came back the first summer, only to be reminded by her parents. This also happened to others who lived in the muggle world. Hermione explained that it was the shock that overrode the mind and forced the children to accept that what they had always been told didn't exist was true.

Hermione herself had forgotten her favorite books as a child when she returned home. Hermione also confided that it happened again in second year but stopped after that, as that is quite usual and unordinary in muggleborns. Harry had been wary of that information, wondering why no warning had been issued. Hermione also explained that usually the memories came back once you've seen the object or person you forgot.

As Harry hadn't seen his rock or Takes in the past few years, he shouldn't have gotten his memories returned. It was only through other objects, such as his drawing, that it alerted the deepest part of his memories.

"No burping, passing gas or sneezing without covering your mouth while in the company of others when trying to make a good impression," Harry read, rolling his eyes. "No duh."

He grinned as he finally put his rock in his pocket and began practicing some of the poses he was expected to do, as well as formal greetings to his pillow to get better at saying it without faltering or messing up.

Harry was excited that his classes started tomorrow on Monday the twenty-second of July. Just a little over two weeks before his birthday as well. Stopping his back straight walk, Harry glanced at his new, plain black robes he had bought and his homemade class schedule.

Monday he only had the driving class, but he was still excited nonetheless. He had scheduled to have his week of driving classes be from 4:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m. He had asked to only be taught Monday through Friday this week since he had dueling class all day on the weekends from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. He would be way too tired to deal with another class, so he just assigned the last two days to be on Monday and Tuesday of next week.

Happy, started practicing the wand movements to a spell in one of dueling books, Within the Shadow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At exactly four o'clock in the evening, Petunia Dursley heard the unmistakable sound of the door bell being rung. As she was currently trying to have a nap on the couch with a cool cloth to get rid of her horrid headache, she was loath to get up. However, as her garage door was open, signifying someone was home, she obviously could not just leave whoever it was standing on her door step.

Just as Petunia mustered the strength to finally stand, which drew a bout of dizziness, her freak of a nephew bolted down the stairs. "I've got it," he informed her, opening the door to reveal a man with dirty blond hair and an easy grin. He was wearing normal clothes, and didn't appear to be a freak…

"Hello, I'm Greg Harper from the driving facility for muggleborns," he said easily, extending a hand. "And I suppose you're Harry Potter?" A quick glance in the direction of his scar was all Harry got.

"The same," Harry said dryly.

"Driving lessons?" Petunia spoke up with confusion. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. "You signed up for driving lessons?" she hissed. "And how do you expect to pay for it?"

"If I may, ma'am," Greg interrupted, "but Harry here has already paid. He will be taught to drive Monday through Friday this week and Monday and Tuesday of next week from 4:00 to 8:00."

Petunia looked like she had swallowed a lemon. She had of course already signed Dudley up for driving lessons, but as he kept failing the written test for his permit, things had not gone well.

"So long as you don't expect us to pay for it," she told Harry. "You may leave."

Harry barely gave a nod and followed Greg outside. Parked in front of the house was a red 1993 Toyota. Greg motioned for Harry to get into the passenger seat before they both put on their seat belts.

Alrighty then, Harry," Greg said, sounding completely laid back and excited. "Let's go over some ground rules that you already know but must be said for the rules sake and blah, blah, blah."

Harry was really starting to like this guy.

"Ever since the attacks with You-Know-Who that any tutor given the address of his or her student is under oath to give the location away." Harry was already aware of that. "Second, before we start driving, I need to know if you have any knowledge of cars."

"Not the whole lay out," Harry said. "I'm no mechanic but I know what's in the main area to drive, such as the steering wheel, clutch, wind shield wipers, emergency break…"

"Good, good," Greg said, stopping Harry's rant. "This makes my job easier. Most muggleborn's I teach have already been taught a little by their folks, though most get their license the muggle way. Well, all set?"

Harry nodded. "I'm ready."

"Good. Alright, now the first thing we do before even touching the keys is…?"

"Checking all mirrors," Harry answered immediately; glad he had read the pamphlet.

"And then?" Greg pressed.

Harry looked around. "Turn on the engine?" he guessed.

Greg laughed. "There is that." He turned on the car and turned expectantly to Harry.

"We just go?" Harry guessed again.

"Wrongo," Greg said, smiling patiently. "Always look behind your shoulder before turning anywhere. It's an automatic fail if you don't. Now, I know a large parking lot near by at this library. Hardly anyone's there so we shouldn't have much trouble practicing."

Taking off, Harry listened attentively as Greg explained everything about the car, minus the more mechanical details dealing with the engine or for anyone who might want to be a mechanic.

"Alright, Harry, let's give it a go," Greg said enthusiastically, switching spots with Harry.

Harry waited until both were seat and doors shut. Reaching down he pulled a lever to make the seat move forward to be more comfortable before putting on his seat belt and fixing the mirrors. Putting his hands on the wheel, Harry turned to Greg.

"Let her go," Greg urged.

Grinning, Harry turned on the engine with his foot on the break, as Greg had explained, at put it in Drive. Lifting his foot off the break, Harry put on a little gas and yelped as they shot forward like a bullet before he slammed his foot on the break and jerked forward. He hadn't expected it to take off that quickly!

Greg was laughing so hard that he had to hold his sides. "Sorry, Harry," he apologized, still chuckling. "But I love the expressions on my students when they've never driven before. The first time isn't what you expect, neh?"

"Neh," Harry grumbled, though cracking an easy grin in amusement.

The rest of the time passed easily, Harry becoming better and better in the parking lot, but still no where near ready for the actual street. By the time eight o'clock had come, Harry felt exhausted. Not just physically tired, but mentally. It felt much longer than four hours. Even Greg looked tired.

"Hey, Greg," Harry said as they parked in front of the Dursley's. "Why does it feel a lot longer than four hours?"

"That's because technically we drove for eight," Greg said. "There are alternate time turners the Ministry uses. In my department we slow time inside the car to make it longer so that the student learns much more than just four hours a night. We don't want kids driving with no actual knowledge and then crashing, all just to get a quick ticket to their driver's license."

Harry nodded. That made a lot of sense. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, shaking Greg's hand.

"Same. It's a real honor to teach you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm just Harry," he said seriously, glad to see Greg nod in understanding. He really liked this guy. "Oh, and I have a politics class tomorrow, so if I seem dead, just given me a few wake up slaps," Harry joked.

Greg laughed. "Will do. Now go on, get. I can see that aunt of yours spying on us."

Sure enough Aunt Petunia was watching them from behind a window curtain. Snorting, Harry got out of the car and waved to Greg as he drove away. Walking back inside, Harry prepared himself a large dinner. He was absolutely famished.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tuesday was today, which meant that Harry was preparing for his next class: Politics. He wasn't quite sure what to expect except that he was to be taught to almost be a pureblood. Harry wondered how that would turn out.

Harry rode on the Knight Bus silently as he looked out the window and stroked his rock in his pants pocket. Harry had truly forgotten what a stress reliever that was. Licking his lips and straightening imaginary crinkles in his robe, Harry stood up with dignity as he left the Knight Bus when it came to his stop, all the while wishing for a smoke.

Entering the Leaky Cauldron, Harry sat down on one of the stools, knowing that Ms. Lavern would meet him here. Smiling as Tom greeted him, he politely declined a drink or food.

"I can see manners aren't something that needs to be worked on," a sugary voice stated smoothly. It was so fake and annoying that Harry hated that tone immediately.

Harry turned and stood. "Hello, Ms. Lavern," he said politely, and a bit distrustfully, before shaking her hand.

"No hey or simple hi. Good, good." She eyed Harry up and down. "Clothes are simple but will be remedied." Harry frowned. These were new! "Will need to hide emotions better as well." Ms. Lavern gave him a simple smile that had no real emotion behind it. "I believe in teaching my students outside of a stuffy classroom, Mr. Potter. Personal experience always works better." She gave him a stern look. "You have no problem with this, of course." It was not stated as a question.

"Of course not, ma'am," Harry answered immediately, knowing he worked better that way than instead of just theory.

"Will also have to work on your timing when answering a question," Ms. Lavern said, beckoning Harry to follow him. "Remember this, Mr. Potter," she said seriously. "How and when you answer a question give much more than just an answer. Being quick makes you sound too eager while being slow makes you sound stupid and unknowing." She gave Harry a piercing glance.

Damn, she looked even stricter than Snape, though not with that unfairness that the potions master was so famous for.

"Where're we going?" Harry asked, walking by her side.

"Where _are_ we going, Mr. Potter," Ms. Lavern corrected sternly, voice almost harsh. "We will be going into the East district of Diagon Alley."

Harry nearly faltered. That area was very expensive and where the Purebloods usually shopped and dined. He only had a small bag of money with him, though he doubted Ms. Lavern wanted him to start buying a whole bunch of stuff. He squeezed his rock in his robe pocket.

"Hands out of pockets," Ms. Lavern ordered, not even glancing at him.

Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up and hastily obeyed.

"I do hope you are hungry, Mr. Potter," Ms. Lavern said with a small look in his direction. "We will be eating at the Golden Dragon."

This time Harry blanched. "Ms. Lavern," he said, trying to not sound too hasty. "I don't much money with me, I'm afraid. Are you sure…"

"Everything has been taken care of," she said, this time face reassuring. "I've already made plans for this, and as it is your first time in such an area, I feel fit to warn you, especially as you are Harry Potter, you will be watched and judged immediately." Ms. Lavern gave him a once over. "Your robes are simple but fine, though I expect someone of your status to wear better robes in the future."

What the heck was wrong with these robes, and why did she keep bringing it up?

"Are you trying to see how I handle under pressure in new situations, especially something outside of my ordinary schedule?"

"Very good," she said, sounding like she was praising a child. "But enough talk until we sit. Simple talk is fine, but conversations are saved for more appropriate situations. It does not do one's good to be seen talking in a corner like some hoodlum or bum."

Harry nodded, though he didn't exactly agree with her. As they had already entered the Eastern district, Harry felt a bit uncomfortable with all the rich purebloods around. The men wore expensive robes that were made of silk or other fine material with actual gems or gold on them. The woman wore more obvious attire that showed off their wealth, such as large wizarding hats with colorful feathers or rare gems. One woman was even wearing a robe made out of jaguar fur.

"Here we are," Ms. Lavern said, giving Harry a pointed look as they stopped in front of a giant restaurant with a large dragon painted in gold on the top. It was majestic looking with an aristocrat look that made it look like it believed it was richer and more powerful than anyone else.

Understanding what Ms. Lavern wanted; Harry opened the door for her, back straight and a cool look on his face.

"Remember to smile gently when looking at me," Ms. Lavern spoke softly. "Looking cool or bowing your head makes you look like a servant."

"Thanks for the advice," Harry said truthfully as he walked carefully by her side with his hands folded behind his back and looking thoughtful.

Ms. Lavern gave him another look over. "Perfect," she said before beckoning one of the servers to her.

Harry just gave her a confused look. What was perfect?

"Of course, Lad Lavern," the waiter said, drawing Harry's attention. "All accommodations have been prepared." With a flourished bow, the waiter gestured for her and Harry to follow.

They were led to a table that was obviously meant for just two despite the fact that it looked as if it could hold four. Harry glanced at the silverware, noticing that they were made of silver. As he saw two of everything for the silverware, he really hoped he didn't screw anything up. Was there a specific reason he had two forks? One knife looked like a butter knife…

"May I offer a recommendation for today's wine?" the waiter asked, standing up straight with his arm in front of him and the other behind his back.

"Oh, what is today's wine?" Ms. Lavern asked. "Hopefully red wine?"

"Of course, Madam," he said formally, offering the tiniest of bows. "We would have nothing else. Today's wine is actually new but has had good reviews. Chteau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac 1996. "

Harry wasn't even sure how the man had pronounced that and also wished the waiter had a nametag. Apparently in expensive restaurants the name of the waiter wasn't important.

"Made this year." Ms. Lavern contemplated it, giving the waiter a bored look that clearly said he had better make a good impression before forgetting about him. "And it has good recommendations, you say?"

"It has been named the star of Versailles," the waiter said. "It was created in the eighteenth century but was only renewed this year. 20 galleons per glass."

Ms. Lavern gave a sniff. "Very well. One glass for me and another for my charge."

The waiter faltered. "Lady Lavern, I'm afraid with your charge being underage…" He trailed off under Ms. Lavern's glare.

"Are you implying that you would not give an heir a simple glass of wine? The heir of Potter, might I add."

The waiter blanched. "No! No, of course not, Lady Lavern, Lord Potter." He bowed low. "Two glass of wine will be brought while you decide." He hurried off.

Ms. Lavern watched him go with amusement before looking back at her student. His face was carefully blank, too blank for her liking, but his eyes were contemplative and questioning, not that Harry could tell.

"All heirs have the right to drink wine at the age of thirteen, though no other alcohol is allowed such as vodka or beer." Her face showed displeasure at such low end alcohol. "Start looking at your menu," she ordered, eyes straying from his eyes.

Glancing around without moving his head, Harry felt as if a weight had just collapsed on his shoulders. Almost everybody was looking at him, all of them obviously purebloods. They were leveling him with too many different stares. Most were curious while other were contemplative, judging. They were wondering where this would lead and what their next course of action would be. If the heir of Potter was coming into the pureblood way, what would happen? And he was with Ailin Lavern of the pureblood Lavern's…

"Aw, you catch on extremely quick, though I doubt you have this little ability willingly…" She seemed a bit unsure but hid it marvelously and was able to look immensely pleased.

After a few minutes of looking, Harry glanced at his teacher. "Ms. Lavern," he said quietly, nervously.

"Never betray your emotions, Mr. Potter," she said simply. "And do not whisper, but instead talk in a normal voice. Whispers and shouts attract attention."

Harry cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I don't know what most of this stuff is." It all looked like it was written in a foreign language.

"I suggest the Kobe Beef Teppanyaki," Ms. Lavern said, pursing her lips in disappointment at his lack of knowledge of expensive food. "You do eat meat, of course?" Harry nodded. "Good. It is quite tender and very delicious. Oh, and be sure to at least take a sip of wine. Be sure to hold it from the stem. Remember, servants have touched the top. You are above them and thus must touch as little as possible of your goblet. Do you understand?"

Arrogant woman, Harry thought angrily. "Yes."

"Good."

And that was that. They both received their wine and a small salad to start off with before the main meal arrived. Harry's beef was absolutely delicious, though extremely juicy. Harry had a feeling Ms. Lavern told him to order that on purpose just to see how his table manners were. With everyone staring at him of course he was going to try and make a good impression.

The wine had been interesting and extremely good. It was very sweet but seemed to have a lingering mint taste that felt good on his tongue. Harry only drank half of the goblet, preferring a glass of water for the rest of his meal.

Ms. Lavern had ordered king crab boiled in butter and spices. The entire time she pegged him with questions and tips and demanded that he answered back. He didn't mind, but when she started asking him while he chewed on purpose that became a bit annoying and hard. He couldn't very well ignore her, but then he also couldn't answer with his mouth full.

Harry was also a bit nervous about paying, especially when only a glass of wine was 20 galleons. Harry was pretty sure he had seen something on the menu for over a hundred galleons.

"You are doing quite well, Mr. Potter," Ms. Lavern said, sipping her drink with an almost fond expression.

Harry set his napkin down on his lap before folding his hands over them and keeping them there. That had been his first mistake when they arrived by keeping unmoving hands on the table.

"Thank you," Harry said. He leaned back a bit and eyed her carefully. "I suppose this really was just a test to see how my reaction would be and what you had to work with."

"Yes, a very fast learner," she murmured. Harry wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself. "But yes, Mr. Potter, you are quite right. You have passed but still have much to work on. Keeping cool is the most important thing in politics. Don't ever let one scare you and if you are you must hide it at all costs, lest you want be destroyed. Not literally, of course."

"Right." Harry honestly didn't know what to say to that.

She smiled, almost as if she knew what was going on his head. She probably did, especially since she's taught politics to a number of students.

"My word, Ailin Lavern," a silky voice said. "Why, I haven't seen you in some time."

Both turned to see a woman with silky black hair and soft brown eyes with just a touch of blue.

"Marius Bobbin," Ms. Lavern returned, standing. The two gave each other a single kiss on each cheek in greeting. "I could say the same. Over watching the shipping of important potion ingredients can be quite tiresome and time consuming."

The woman, Mrs. Bobbin, gave a small laugh that seemed only for appearances. "My dear, I seem to recall you doing a bit in the shipping department and know quite what that's like."

Ms. Lavern lifted only the corner of her lip.

"And who is this?" Mrs. Bobbin asked, eyeing Harry up and down. "New student?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered strongly, holding out his hand.

Slowly, she let him shake her hand, almost as if he weren't worthy enough to touch her. Harry fought very hard to keep his lip from curling into a sneer.

"How long have you had him?" Mrs. Bobbin's asked, Ms. Lavern, stating it as if he were merely an item.

"Today is my first day," Harry, giving her a look, pleased that he was taller than her and could look down on her. He kept his gaze cool. "I have taken this class in order to take up my family duties that, sadly, could not be taught by them. Might I request, Lady Bobbin's," Harry said coldly this time, "that all questions concerning me are directed toward me? I am neither stupid nor ignorant, and acting as if I am is an insult."

Harry wasn't aware of the silence in the entire restaurant, save for a few clinks of silverware.

Mrs. Bobbin looked as if he deserved a good slap.

"I believe your heard my student," Ms. Lavern said smugly. "Mr. Potter is quite fast in his studies, wouldn't you agree?"

Mrs. Bobbin actually jerked back in shock. "My apologies, Lord Potter," she said hurriedly.

"It isn't Lord quite yet," Harry said, not liking the title.

The silence broke and talking resumed once more.

"It was nice seeing you, dearie," Ms. Lavern said. "I'm afraid; however, we must be off."

She grabbed Harry's arm gently and led him out, not even stopping to pay. Once they were outside and a little away from the restaurant, Harry finally turned to her.

"Who was she?" he asked.

"Martius Bobbin," Ms. Lavern said, walking a bit arrogantly. "She owns several greenhouses that produce very rare potion ingredients."

Harry was silent for a moment. "Why do people call me Lord Potter?"

This time Ms. Lavern gave him a disappointed look. "I'm afraid to ask, but did you make up your wording as you went along?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Yes," he said honestly.

Ms. Lavern sniffed. "While not a bad trait, it is better to have knowledge of what you plan to say. For your first homework assignment, you will research your family and what it means to be a Lord. I want a two page essay on how one becomes an heir and finally what a Lord is entitled to. Also, I will be asking what you learned from your family. Tomorrow, I will be going over what must be improved. Good day."

"Wait," Harry called. "Don't we still have a few more hours?"

"I never use the full amount of time on the first class," Ms. Lavern said. "It gives me time to evaluate on what needs work. Remember to do your assignment and meet me tomorrow once again in the Leaky Cauldron."

She apparated, leaving Harry to stare at the spot in shock. He had until tomorrow? He didn't even know where to look for his family history!

"Crap," Harry muttered, walking out of the East District and away from prying eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ailin Lavern's newest student was an enigma. He acted much cooler and level headed than she had been warned. While he did betray his emotions a bit too much, that was understandable. What wasn't understandable was his quick changing personality.

She had seen how he had easily laughed and smiled with his friends at the fair. With her or others, he was completely closed off. That was not strange behavior for children who have been trained to give nothing away or disclose any weakness, but that was not normal for Mr. Potter.

There was a strange aura about him. With his different personalities, Ailin was unsure whether or not the boy had split personalities or something drastic had happened to make him trust other harder. After what she had read in the paper about the Department of Mysteries, she believed in was that.

It was actually perfect. To be a good politician, one had to keep a cool head and betray nothing. He was also very defensive, another good thing. His comment with him not being a Lord not yet made quite a stir. She had purposely led him to the restaurant, already prepaid for, of course, where noble purebloods could gauge him and make assumptions.

She rarely did that with any of her students, save the one's who were heirs to a very well known pureblood family, such as the Malfoy's or Blacks. She had taught a Black many years ago. He hadn't been the heir but was still in charge of the family business…

Ah, but that was years ago. She barely even remembered the boys' name, though he did have a good stance. And so did Potter. He had looked so regal, looking around as he did so with a contemplative look with his arms folded behind his back. If only he had the long hair Lord's were known to have. True, that was quite an old practice, but still commonly done and used as a symbol of honor and title of Lord. He would have made an exceptional beauty in the proper attire.

Alas, Potter knew nothing of what it meant to be the heir to a noble and high standing family. She had told him when they first met to work on his family history on his own time, but as his lack of knowledge was pathetic and she had orders to make sure the boy learned about his title… Well, that's what she would do.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry was getting a little more than stressed out. His driving lesson had gone well, except for the fact that he would have completely totaled the rear of the car if it hadn't had a self fixing charm on it when he backed into a fire hydrant. But that wasn't the problem. He had no idea how to start on his two page essay that was due tomorrow and didn't have the slightest clue how to find out about his family.

"This is bad," Harry muttered, walking back and forth, his rock sitting on his desk.

What could he do? Who knew enough about his family that could… Remus! Of course! He could just owl Remus and ask for information. Dumbledore had said he should contact the man, and that's what he would be doing. Grabbing a spare bit of parchment, Harry began writing.

_Remus,_

_It's Harry. I'm sorry I haven't owled sooner, but I've been dealing with a lot of stuff lately and didn't really want to contact anybody. With Sirius and all… Well, anyways, I'm taking a few classes right now at the Ministry. I'm sure you would know since Dumbledore always spills my secrets to the Order. I need your help. I need information about the Potter family._

_I don't know a thing about heirs or Lords or anything. Since you knew my dad so well and Sirius was Head of the Blacks, I'd thought you'd know. Please owl immediately. This essay is due tomorrow._

_Thanks,_

_Harry._

"Please give this to Remus as soon as possible," Harry told Hedwig. "And I need a response so you can stay as long as needed."

Hedwig bobbed her head in reply and held out her claw expectantly. Tying the letter carefully, Harry watched her fly off, hoping this would work.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ron sucked on the end of his quill, easily ignoring the glare his sister had been shooting him the past few days. She had been absolutely jealous when she found out he would be taking dueling lessons at the Ministry.

The twins had given him a loan and he had promised to work everyday until the end of summer to pay off his debt. He had class Sunday through Thursday from 9:00 a.m. until noon. Then he got a two hour break before starting work at the shop and worked all day for the rest of the week.

Ron could honestly say he was proud of his choice. Dead tired and stillhated the studying, but still proud nonetheless. With a smile, he glanced up at his dueling book and sighed a little at his sister. Honestly, she could have done the same as him! He had been given the ok two days before the deadline. It wasn't his fault she couldn't get a job, though he supposed his mum may have had something to with that.

He idly wondered how Harry and Hermione were doing. Speaking of Harry, Ron was pretty sure he saw Hedwig fly into the kitchen just as he left. Shrugging, Ron went back to reading, completely excited to be learning tomorrow's lesson. It involved spells he had never heard of!

Inside the kitchen, Remus glared sullenly at his whiskey. Hating it even more that he felt like he needed it, he took a sip. He really didn't want to go back to the werewolf packs. The one's he went to hated him, claiming that a werewolf who didn't accept his wolf did not belong anywhere near them.

Spying Mrs. Weasley give him pitying looks, Remus sighed, looking even more disgruntled until he saw a familiar owl. His seriously felt his heart skip a beat when he saw that Harry had written to him. As Remus held the letter, he silently debated with himself. Should he open the letter? While the thought seemed rude, Remus didn't know if he could deal with Harry right now…

Finally after several tense minutes with both Mrs. Weasley and Hedwig staring at him, Remus cleared his throat. "Molly, if you would?"

Mrs. Weasley softened her gaze and nodded, being sure to give him an affectionate squeeze. "I'll be here if you need me."

Remus watched her go before opening the letter, reading it quickly. After a moment, he reread it, unsure if he understood correctly. After a third time, Remus rubbed his forehead. Truth be told, he didn't know Harry was taking classes at the Ministry, though he had heard Ron was but hadn't thought much on it.

Really, how could Harry even think of stepping into the very place Sirius had been… And asking about Lordships and heirs! Didn't Harry know how hard Sirius had tried to get away from all that? Sirius hated everything that had to with the pureblood way and took every chance he got to scorn it.

Grabbing some parchment from the pile in the Weasley kitchen, Remus began writing, anger and sadness written clearly.

_Harry,_

_You have no idea how pleased I am to hear from you. Things have not been as good as they should have been. I am surprised to hear about this class of yours. The Headmaster has not spoken to me of such things. I'm afraid I cannot help with what you need. I do not know enough of the Potter family legacy to provide information. James was quite against it all, as I thought you would be. As for heirs and Lords, you know that Sirius absolutely hated such things._

_It is a meaningless form of control that Sirius fought very hard to get out—_

Remus immediately crumbled the paper up and tossed it on the ground with a sob. He had no right to start getting into a rant about how angry he was. He had no right to say these things to Harry, no matter how distraught he was.

"I can't talk to him," Remus said brokenly, getting up and leaving the house.

Hedwig, who had watched the whole exchange patiently, hooted in annoyance when she didn't get a reply. Seeing the parchment the gray man had thrown to the ground, she clicked her beak angrily. He could have at least handed it to her if he wasn't going to tie it to her! Hooting, Hedwig picked up the crumpled parchment and took off, right before Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen with a curious expression.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Many things happened that night for many people. The first thing was that Amelia Bones had finally gotten her audience with the Wizengamot and had finally appealed to have the underage law changed. All children would be allowed to use magic unless they put the Muggle Discovery Act in danger. All wizards and witches who lived in the muggle world would be watched closely to not only ensure their safety, but to see if they broke the requirements. Owls would be sent in the morning.

For Ron and Hermione their classes were going extremely well and could only hope for the best. Not once had the three gotten back in contact, though Ron needed to remind himself to tell Harry he better send an owl to Ginny before she bit his head off. She had wanted to talk to him ever since the Department of Mysteries. He would also need to owl Neville and Luna.

With Dumbledore, he was currently in a very serious discussion with Mad-Eye Moody.

"I don't know what that boy is playing at," Moody growled, looking at his old friend suspiciously. "Coming and going into Diagon Alley whenever he pleases. Does he have any idea how easy he's making it for the enemy? And going about with that blasted Ailin Lavern. Her family is blacker than the Black's!

Dumbledore smiled patiently at his friend as he took a sip of Gillywater. "Now, Mad-Eye, you just as well as I that you can't compare a child to her parents."

"That woman is no child," Moody snarled. "And just what are you going to do about Potter?"

"Leave him be," Dumbledore said simply.

Leave him…?" Moody broke out into harsh laughter. "Just leave him be so he can become the next torture toy for Death Eater's?" He shook his head.

Dumbledore met the look easily. "Really, Mad-Eye. Do you really think so little of me? I know exactly what is going on between Ms. Lavern and Harry. Do not think I have completely stopped having him watched."

"Who?" Moody growled distrustfully.

Dumbledore waved his hand. "That isn't important, but what is important is how you are doing."

"Don't try that on me, Albus," Moody said, both eyes glaring at the Headmaster. "We've had to put too much aside for that boy to be simply told off, let alone leave him be. At least the boy is smart enough to take a dueling class like his redhead friend." He was silent for a moment. "She'll havehim looking into his family."

No emotion showed on Dumbledore's face. "I know."

"They've already agreed to allow underage kids to start using magic, stupid as that is, and if you let Potter get any deeper, you'll no longer be in control."

Dumbledore pierced Moody with a stern look. "You know that I do not think of Harry as a thing to be controlled." His tone wasn't harsh, but it was clearly cold.

Moody laughed again, shaking his head in obvious pity. "Do you really play me for a fool, Albus? You've had your leash wrapped around that boy since he was one. You having him followed, which is the smart thing to do, proves it. Tell me right now, old man, that you truly want Harry to become Lord of the Potter's and Black's." Dumbledore was silent. Moody nodded. "That's what I thought. You know what will happen if he's forced to take the Black ritual."

"Harry is a good man, he knows between right and wrong."

"He's a boy, Albus." Moody shook his head. Glancing at his watch the old auror stood. "I'm off. New recruits have come in today. Remember to watch that boy carefully, Albus. I don't trust that boy."

"Good luck with your new recruits," Dumbledore said truthfully before twinkle dulling a bit. "Mad-Eye, I believe you should know that I trust Harry with my life."

Moody sneered. "With that blasted Dark Lord in his head? You'd best start getting your priorities right." And with that he was gone, leaving his old friend feeling his age with a depressed slump.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With Voldemort, things were going spectacularly. He had finally gotten a hold of the Seer that had made the prophesy. The old man had thought he could trust the secret keeper, but what Dumbledore didn't know was that the woman had been given Imperius Potion. It worked just like the spell but was not noticeable at all and was incredibly hard to detect.

Voldemort smiled softly, looking too much like a pleased cat as he heard the screams of Sybill Trelawney. Her stomach was arched up and bony hands curled into half fists as the acid ate away at her skin, exposing muscle.

"If you would like the pain to stop, all it takes is one little prophecy," Voldemort said softly, trailing his wand on her flesh, creating welts.

Trelawney whimpered. "Please… please," she moaned. "Please let me go."

"Do as I say, dear Seer, and you shall get your reward." Voldemort's snake face turned into an ugly sneer. Truthfully he knew the woman could never tell him willingly. He would need to break the secrecy charm, but a little torture was all well and good.

"Bring me the potion, Smitz," Voldemort ordered to his second Potion's master. He would have to be a complete fool to have trusted Severus in this.

"Yes, Master," the dark skinned man with sunken brown eyes said, his gaze lowered in submission. He handed over a purple potion.

Trelawney cried shamelessly, begging for mercy. Voldemort slapped her harshly as she tried to grab his robes weakly. Dropping exactly seven drops on her forehead, the on looking Death Eater's almost flinched at the high pitched scream the Seer was emitting.

Within seconds, a purple eye with a slit for a pupil blinked up at Voldemort. The Seer's eye. Trelawney's natural eyes turned glazed as her mouth opened and mist escaped from her mouth. Taking out another vile, Voldemort dropped exactly three drops of Veritaserum into the misty mouth.

"All of you leave," Voldemort ordered venomously to his followers.

"Yes, Master," they intoned, bowing low and leaving quickly. Once the chamber was empty and sealed, he turned to the broken Seer.

"Tell me the prophecy that binds me and Potter," Voldemort snarled, holding her throat steady with enough force to hurt it but not enough to cut off air.

Because of the truth potion, Trelawney had no choice but to do as commanded now that her Seer soul had been released with all her prophesy memories.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will havepower the Dark Lord knows not and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

Voldemort released the Seer in shock. He fell into his throne, trying to find meaning in this. Grabbing a bottle of his expensive red wine, Voldemort tried to pour a glass before throwing it in anger and cursing the blasted Seer until even her bones were showing and she couldn't even speak.

"_You may eat her, sweet Nagini,"_ Voldemort hissed with contempt. _"Make sure she is digested alive."_

Nagini hissed with pleasure as she easily swallowed the weak and tortured woman.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For Harry, he had no idea such things were happening. He was busy pacing and it was nearly midnight, essay still not even started and rock sitting on his bed seemingly watching him.

Harry sat on his chair with a sigh, knowing Hedwig should be back soon. It only took her a few hours to get to the Burrow and back. Sure enough, a good ten minutes later, Hedwig arrived to see a smoking Harry and called to with an annoyed hoot as she dropped the crumbled parchment and left in a huff.

"What the heck?" Harry reached down with a raised eyebrow and unrolled the parchment. "Why did Remus give this to yoooo…oh." Harry stared at the unfinished letter, fisting it into his hand.

Harry closed his eyes and screamed into his pillow. Bastard! Absolute bastard! God almighty, did everybody hate him for what happened to Sirius?

"Sirius…" Harry moaned. "No," he growled, taking his rock in his hand and slamming it to the ground in rage. "No!" he snarled. He was over this! He was over the death of Sirius until the war was over. He was over his parents, people he never even knew. He was his own person, not his parents.

"Fucking Bellatrix," he growled. "Fucking Voldemort. Fucking Remus." He continued this, remembering how that day had started out. "Fucking Kreacher!" he finally shouted, hating everything, especially that damn house elf that made him believe his Godfather had been captured.

As soon as Harry shouted out the last name, a loud pop resonated in his room. Harry wasn't the only one shocked. Kreacher, horrible, ugly Kreacher had been transported into his room. It seemed it hadn't been willingly, either.

"Kreacher was called," the old elf rasped. "Only Master can call Kreacher. Oh what would poor Mistress say if she knew half-blood Potter was Kreacher's new Master!?"

Harry gapped in astonishment, but that immediately changed as he ground his teeth together, still shaking in rage. "Kreacher," he said dangerously, face almost ugly with rage.

Kreacher actually backed up, a mixture of shock and eagerness on his face.

"Kreacher… You damn elf!" Harry yelled as he kicked the frail elf against his bedroom wall.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ok, another chapter done. I'm trying to make this fast paced as I don't want this fic to be long. Maybe 15 chapters, hopefully less. Well, it also seems that the rating is going up. Things are gonna get dark, hopefully in good detail.

Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, so thanks for the info that the driving age in England is 17. Sorry, I didn't know. That was the one thing in this entire story I didn't research. However! I shall use the scapegoat known as AU… So, in this world the driving age is 16… Yea…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next few minutes were incredibly tense for Harry as he stared at the crumbled house elf. With a vicious grunt, the old elf twisted his leg back in place, for it had been at an odd angle when he landed on the ground. With both a sneer and an eager look, Kreacher gazed into Harry's eyes.

"New Master has summoned Kreacher," he rasped. "Dirty little half-blood," he muttered. "Destroying all the great and noble…"

"Be quiet!" Harry snapped angrily, silencing the elf's mutters. With an angry stomp, Harry had Kreacher lifted into the air by the front of his dirty towel. "You may not have fired the curse, but you may just as well have killed Sirius." Harry gazed deeply into Kreacher's face, face sneering at the ugliness. "The last of the Black heirs," he whispered, needing something that would cause the elf mental pain.

To his surprise, Kreacher chuckled. "Kreacher did no such thing to the traitor. Kreacher no tell traitor to run off after godson."

"You told me he was gone," Harry snarled, tightening his grip. Kreacher only seemed to like it more, the damn masochist.

"Harry Potter was not Kreacher's Master," Kreacher said with conviction, giving Harry a sharp tooth grin that only seemed to make him uglier. "Though what would poor Mistress say…?"

Harry dropped to the elf on the ground without a warning and watched in satisfaction as the elf bounced harshly on his bottom, little as that may be. "So I'm your master," Harry said, not pronouncing it the way Kreacher does it respectfully. Almost like take and Take, Harry mused.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said resentfully. "Kreacher has angered Master, and Master will most likely punish poor, old Kreacher."

Harry sat in his desk chair, wishing for more than nothing to beat this… this_ creature_ into a bloody pulp. However, his logical side thoroughly pushed that away. He was not another pathetic Malfoy that abused innocent servants, though Kreacher was no where near innocent. Also, what did this mean, being Sirius' heir? Did he own the Black house and all of its possessions?

Harry looked down at the muttering elf that was too busy muttering insults to everyone and everything. "Kreacher, as your Master, you are expected to follow my orders, ri… correct?" Harry was glad he caught himself and used grammar to improve his speech.

"Yes, Master." Kreacher bowed low to the ground. "Filthy half-blood and his mudblood mother contaminating…"

"My first order is for you to stop muttering your blasted insults," Harry interrupted coldly. "If you are to mumble, do it away from people and by yourself."

Kreacher nodded obediently and looked at Harry expectantly.

"You're expecting punishment," Harry stated, trailing a finger over his rock. Kreacher's eagerness was enough to confirm it to Harry. "You will not be receiving clothes," he stated unemotionally. "You will…"

Now what exactly could he do? What does one do with an elf besides have it clean? He had no house, and even if he owned Grimmauld's place he had no thoughts about living there. Also, he couldn't let Kreacher go free so he could serve the Lestrange's, Malfoy's or some other person out to get him and blather about everything he knew. Harry tapped his finger thoughtfully, eyes trailing to his unwritten essay.

"You will bring me a book on heirs and lords," Harry commanded, surprising the elf even more.

"Would Master like book from Black library or to be bought?"

"From the library," Harry said. "I won't have you going all over the place. And you are not allowed to speak to anyone who wishes to kill me or even let them see you. In fact, don't even near another human being unless I command it," Harry said.

Kreacher seemed to be working out how he could find a loop hole before nodding and disappearing with a pop. Not even a minute later Kreacher came back with two books.

"What would poor Mistress say if she knew Black library has been completely ravaged?" the elf exclaimed tearfully.

Harry faltered. "Ravaged? Has someone been in the house?"

Kreacher fixed him with a hated glare before remembering who he was. "When traitor came with Order of Phoenix, many Black family items were destroyed and tossed away as if it were useless junk!"

Harry thought back to the summer he had spent at Grimmauld's. He remembered that he and the others constantly cleaned and the adults always groaned about so many dark items being all over the place. So they had been destroyed, apparently.

"What types of books were destroyed?" Harry asked.

"Books about the dark arts," Kreacher said as he looked down in anger before opening his mouth. Nothing came out, much to Harry's amusement. It seemed his order was working. "Books that have been in the Black family for generations."

"Books that would most likely have curses that Death Eater's use," Harry mused, scratching his chin in slight irritation.

He could understand the adults that worried about the children's safety, but what he could not understand was why they would need to be destroyed. That kind of information could save a life and help them understand how the Death Eater's worked. Harry also knew Moody was extremely prejudiced towards the Dark Arts, despite using borderline and illegal curses when taking out an enemy. Even those weren't classified as dark, but surely he knew the importance of them?

"How many books are left?" Harry asked, wondering what kind of books had been left.

"1,000 books used to reside in the Black house, and now only 20 remain!" Kreacher cried, tears actually leaking from his eyes.

Harry blanched. So many books destroyed that had probably been kept for centuries. It was more sad than maddening. What right did the order have? Just lock the books up from prying eyes and use them purposely. This was a freaking war!

"Every last one destroyed, huh?" Harry asked, careful to be blank faced.

"And most Black heirlooms," Kreacher sneered, giving Harry a hopeful look that he would punish those who had wronged the Black family name.

"Stupid idiots," Harry breathed before he turned his back on Kreacher. "Go back to Grimmauld's and stay there until I call you. Gather any important artifact, book or something that I would find of interest and get them prepared. I'll keep those in my vault when I get a chance to keep them safe."

"As you wish, Master." And Kreacher was gone.

Harry sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't deal with this right now. He would handle it in the morning. With a sigh, Harry leaned against his desk with his legs with his rock on top of his knee and one of the books Kreacher had brought him. A Guide to Prosperity for any Lord or Heir.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I gather you have found no information on the Potter family," Ms. Lavern said the next day at the Leak Cauldron. It must have been easily seen on his face for her to know. She sighed. "Very well. Today, as much as I loath it, we shall be studying in a classroom. Take my hand, Mr. Potter."

For a moment, Harry narrowed his eyes with distrust before remembering that Ministry classes were under oath to not harm or bring any harm towards their students. Taking her hand, Harry felt the familiar tug of an uncomfortable tug before appearing in what looked like a small auditorium. There were a few stiff looking couches and chairs strung about with a decorative tea set on a table in the middle.

"Before I question you on your homework, I shall be going over what must be reviewed," Ms. Laver said, guiding him to one of the stiff, but highly decorative, couch. She herself sat on a much cozier looking chair. "Emotions must be kept at bay at all costs, Mr. Potter," she stressed. "Emotions are a weakness in this new world you are entering."

Harry nodded as he made himself comfortable.

"Next, always gather information about your opponents. Become your opponent and know what he is going to say next so that you may argue that point aggressively. You have a chair, Mr. Potter, though you may not make any input until you are of age. Plenty of time to prepare yourself." Mr. Lavern nodded thoughtfully as she flicked her wand and the tea set began to prepare itself for them both.

"Learn about charity. Doing good will help your name grow, but also remember when the time is to give and when is the time to ignore. If, say, an orphanage keeps demanding more money but does not seem to be prospering, there may be some illegal actions that must be looked into and demands ignored."

"So you are saying that the more you do the more followers you get?" Harry asked carefully.

"Not followers," Ms. Lavern said with a secretive smile, "but supporters."

Harry had to say he was truly amused by that.

"Now tell me about your homework," Ms. Lavern commanded. "And don't think this doesn't' mean you will stop looking into your family history."

Harry nodded before clearing his throat. "I found out that in most families, especially the pureblood families, only one heir can be had. Brother's and sisters receive nothing but the family name and blood, save whatever the parents give to them. All heirs are male, unless there is only a girl but back in the 1950's and below, girls did not receive all the rights as boys.

"Heirs can also be killed by a younger brother so that they may become heir, or perhaps by a family member or someone carrying the same blood. Heirs are given the heir ring once they turn 16, which goes on the left middle finger. Lord rings go on the right middle. Becoming a Lord only happens once the previous Lord had died or has handed down his title. The Lord can only hand down his title to his heir once they are of age. If they die before the age of 17, the heir must wait until they are of age. But since the contract made with the goblins in 197…"

"1971," Ms. Lavern replied.

Harry nodded in thanks. "With the contract, if it is stated in the Will, the heir may petition for title of Lord at age 16 if he wishes."

Harry paused for a deep breath, wondering how he could have remembered all that.

"Very good," Ms. Lavern said, clearly pleased. "And you are not quite 16, correct?"

"Less than two weeks away," Harry said.

"Then you still have time before you receive the Potter heir ring."

Harry looked down at his bare hand in surprise, forgetting that he too would receive a ring. He wondered if he would also get the Black ring.

"Now that we have reviewed your homework, I shall start on your next lesson," Ms. Lavern said as she stood. "Today you shall learn how to make proper deals, bargains and partnerships, both legal and illegal." Harry must have showed some shock because she gazed at him coolly. "Surely you of all people no that no Ministry is without corruption. You must no how to spot it to avoid it or use it to your advantage."

"Sounds beneficial," Harry said.

Harry liked using big words around Ms. Lavern. It seemed to give him points in her book for having a brain. If only it did the same for Snape.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Thanks for the drink, Tom," Harry said politely as he dropped two sickles on the table.

After his class, he really needed to relax before going off to Gringotts to find out some information about his vault that he had learned that day. He felt horribly exhausted from trying to learn how to make a good deal. Ms. Lavern was incredibly brutal. Not once had he made a good decision in that lesson. One time he had even somehow allowed her to get control of 95 percent of an imaginary potion ingredient store. It was down right embarrassing.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter," Tom said jovially as he wiped down a dirty table with an equally dirty rag.

Hunching his shoulders as quite a few heads turned, Harry tapped the brick wall irritably. Finding it easy to mesh into the gaggle of shoppers, Harry felt a bit awkward. The atmosphere was incredibly tense, despite the shopper's cheery outlook. It seemed that they were doing nothing but escape from reality.

Walking into Gringotts, Harry was forced to wait in a thirty minute line behind over excitable children. Finally, when it was his turn, the brown goblin gave him a sneer as welcome. "Yes?"

"I need information on my vault," Harry requested.

"Key, please." Harry handed over the golden key. Giving the key a scrutinizing look, the goblin gave Harry a once over before calling, "Vicegrip!"

A small goblin walked over with obvious difficulty. It had a slight limp, beady green eyes and light green skin. "Yes, Stonetooth?"

"Service Mr. Potter in his questions about his vault."

With a jerk of his head, Vicegrip led Harry toward a small desk away from the others and had privacy charms placed upon it.

"What would you like to know, Mr. Potter?"

"I need to know how much money I have and how much I may take out," Harry requested, watching the goblins green eyes carefully.

"Key," Vicegrip demanded. Harry handed it over. Taking his key, Vicegrip pressed it against a light golden piece of parchment. Immediately words and numbers seeped into the parchment. "In your trust vault you have separate piles," Vicegrip explained, showing Harry the parchment.

Harry looked it over and turned back to Vicegrip expectantly.

"2,903 galleons, 11 sickles and 2 knuts were put aside for your years at Hogwarts. Each year, tuition is 414 galleons, 14 sickles and 21 knuts." Harry had a blank look. "That's 1,245 pounds," Vicegrip said snidely. "For money withdrawal, from 1980 until 1991, you had 415 galleons, 450 sickles and 500 knuts. Yearly withdrawals are 62 galleons, sickles and 22 knuts. You have yet to reach your limit as the years have gone. Once school book lists are sent out, you may withdraw the annual sum. You still have 360 galleons, 415 sickles and 365 knuts that can be withdrawn before the yearly amount may be added. The money used for summer classes at the Ministry is automatically paid for from the main Potter vault. Your vault has been filled. That, until you are Head, is the only thing you are allowed to do with the money."

Harry scratched the tip of his nose in thought, sighing. "It looks like I haven't spent that much," he muttered. It was true, especially as he thought about it. He had only spent that money on school books and a few presents for Christmas and Birthdays. "What about my family vault?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Vicegrip read through the numbers for a moment. "It should be noted, Mr. Potter, that family assets have fallen tremendously throughout the years." He didn't wait for Harry to reply. "You have 20,740 galleons, 6 sickles and 6 knuts total, though quite amount of galleons have been distributed into sickles and knuts." Harry had a blank look. Vicegrip had an ugly sneer. "That is 622,246 pounds and 98 pence. You have enough for a nice little house," the goblin said snidely.

Harry gazed back coolly, thinking things over. It was true that once life hit, that wouldn't be much. That was definitely enough to get started on a life before he had to find a job, which suited him just fine. However, he wondered what would happen if people realized the Potter's weren't quite a wealthy as most purebloods.

"How?" he asked.

"With the death of Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter nee Black, family assets, businesses, stocks and shipping were thrown into chaos with no one to lead it. The war was happening and James Potter, son of Charlus, could not take up his Head duties. Rivaling families and businesses easily took control and took much money. It should be noted that money is still being lost as the years passed. A rather large amount of money being withdrawn also helped deplete the Potter fortune in 1979 until 1981 for various protections for the Potter family."

Harry felt his fists tighten. "Am I able to help stop this?"

"Not until you are Head," Vicegrip said without care.

"Was I to be made Lord in the Will?" Harry asked. If he was, he could petition at age sixteen.

Vicegrip showed chipped teeth. "No, Mr. Potter, you were not. The Will only stated you were to receive everything. That was the only sentence." That would mean he had to wait until he was seventeen.

Harry fought very hard not to slump. Even though he knew he was quite lucky to have enough money to buy a house, a small, childish part of him had wished that he would suddenly receive a large amount of assets and money so that he could use it to help win the war. Also, it was a bit disappointing that the only line in the Will said, "He gets everything!"

Harry assumed his father had written it.

"Anything else?" Vicegrip said impatiently.

"No," Harry said. "That's it."

"You may help yourself out," Vicegrip said, handing over Harry's key.

With a scrunched up nose, Harry gladly walked out of the bank. He really hated dealing with the foul creatures. They were almost as bad as Kreacher. Speaking of Kreacher, Harry had no way of getting to Grimmauld's. He couldn't trust the Knight Bus, and he certainly couldn't ask for help.

Slumping on an empty bench, Harry gladly took out a cigarette before shaking the empty box irritably.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dudley had obviously gotten smarter, though stupidity was still evident. Dudley had placed a video camera on his bed to watch the room to see who took his smokes. While that may have been a smart idea if he had covered the video camera, Dudley was obviously not that smart. Harry easily took out the tape and took the only pack left. Sadly, it only had a quarter of cigarettes left.

"And he still has crappy lighters," Harry muttered, taking a throw away lighter, wishing it was something more like a Zippo.

It was Friday evening and he had just gotten done with driving lessons with Greg. Ms. Lavern's lessons were becoming harder and harder. It was good, and Harry benefited from them, but they still left him emotionally drained. It felt as if he was slowly becoming a new person with all that was happening.

Sighing, Harry sat down at his desk, his rock in its usual place in his pocket. It was a comfortable weight. His journal was sitting open, right in front of him as he read through the two years worth of writing. He was nearly at the end, and was growing more and more amused as he read.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Harry intoned carelessly, levitating a glass of milk toward him. When the Ministry letter had come, informing him that he was now allowed to use magic, he had become rather lazy in some areas and loved spoiling himself. Scaring the Dursley's was just a plus, of course.

Harry's eyes flickered toward a sleeping Hedwig in thought. He finally started his dueling class tomorrow. Obviously, he was quite excited, but his mind was troubled. He had written letters to Luna, Ginny and Neville but had yet to send them. He was feeling a bit wary of it all, despite it not being fair to them. Battling with himself, Harry decided that he would send them tomorrow.

Sighing, Harry starting reading some news articles that Greg had given him about muggleborns and squibs selling cars. He was looking for something nice but cheap. So long as the car got him from point A to point B, Harry would be satisfied.

Twitching a bit as Hedwig hooted in her sleep, Harry gave her a guilty glance. He really felt bad about smoking around her, especially since she hated it so much. Giving her a soft smile, Harry got up and easily slipped out of the house into the late night.

Heading toward one of the few places that gave him a sense of happiness, Harry welcomed the small forest and smoked in peace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ok, I got this next chapter down and will start working on the next soon. Sorry if it'll take a while, but I have work and am trying to write a chapter to my other story.

Also, for all you Americans out there, like me, Harry only has 100,000 dollars. That's a lot of money if you already have a house that's been paid for, a car, ect. Once Harry gets a house, he'll be close to broke! I always thought that with the Potters away from the Wizarding world, rivals would obviously take over businesses and stuff by making them lose money. These are some smart purebloods, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

I've got the next chapter up. A slight hallucination scene coming up with drugs. If you start telling me that people don't do or say that, guess again. I've had friends say the same lines with even safer stuff. I don't agree with it, but this can happen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Ron, we need some more vomit pills over here!" George yelled over the loud noise of a Thursday evening.

"Coming!" Ron called back, trying to get the tearful toffees organized. With a huge grunt as he hefted the heavy box over his head, Ron brought over the pills to a harassed looking George.

It had taken a few days to know twin from twin, but Ron had finally gotten it. Fred was the lazy one behind the counter the whole time while George actually did work, though Ron wondered if they sometimes changed places to keep people guessing.

"Two packets for the lovely ladies," George said cheerfully, handing the two second year girls a multicolored packet. As he watched them walk away, he rubbed his forehead. "Phew, today sure is busy."

"At least we get a lot of tips that way," Ron said gleefully, almost getting his scarf pulled off by a passerby group. "Nice idea with that."

The two turned toward an almost full jar of knuts and a few sickles. Ron could even make out two galleons.

"Got the idea from muggle restaurant," George said, stretching and cracking his back. With this kind of money, you'll pay back your loan in no time!"

Ron nodded, not liking the fact that the twins always liked to bring up his money issues and how he owed them. "With my pay check," he told them. "Not tips."

George chuckled. "Whatever. So, how's the class going? Ministry trying to brainwash you yet?"

"Nah, though I'm pretty sure I saw Moody watching us once. It was creepy."

George led Ron into the back where Angela was currently on her break so they could grab a few more boxes to bring to the front. "Yea, heard the crazy ex-auror is back to being auror. Training the new guys. I guess he was checking up on Harry. How is my honorary brother and benefactor?"

"Haven't heard from him," Ron said, picking up a glowing ball that flashed different colors depending on your mood. It was a lot like a mood ring. "I bet he'sssss… woah… Hahaha."

George turned back to Ron in confusion before blanching as Ron got a completely dopey look and started drooling. "Ron? Ron! Bugger, Angela!" George called. She was there in a second, having thrown her Witch Weekly magazine away in a hurry. "He's going through it again," he hissed, holding Ron's head carefully on his knees, completely ignoring the drool and harsh shaking.

"Oh crap," Ron laughed. "So many colors. They look like angry because they're red!"

"Hush, Ron," George whispered, removing his brothers scarf as his scars glowed a light pink. He was seeing another vision from the memories of the brain.

"I have the gauze," Angela whispered, afraid that if she were any louder it would somehow hurt Ron.

"Thanks," George said, rubbing the salve over the scars. They were getting harder to see each day, which was apparently a good thing since the healers told the Weasley family once they disappeared he would stop seeing memories and even forget the ones he had already witnessed.

"Here's the bucket," Angela said after a moment when Ron's shaking ceased.

"Thanks… Heh, you look like a ship…" And then Ron threw up in the bucket and his glazed eyes slowly reverted back to a clear brown. "Uhg, that was bad," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"What did you take this time?" George asked curiously.

"Psylicibin," Ron said. Two blank looks met him. "Magical Mushrooms," Ron said, using the street name. "What did I say? I'm pretty sure I saw a red lamp…"

George chuckled and clapped Ron on the back. "Called Angela a ship."

Ron looked confused. "A sh… Oh, sorry, Angela!" He turned apologetically toward his teammate.

Angela chuckled. "Don't worry about it, and I understand. My cousin has experimented with drugs before. Believe me; I've been called worse things. Just be glad you won't have to go through the actual symptoms of withdrawal and all that other stuff."

Ron winced. George, taking pity on his younger brother said, "Ron, why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

Ron looked furious. "I took Monday off because I had another memory during Dueling and got a good gash, and I'm not about to have another day off."

"Ron…"

"I can handle it," Ron said, looking at George pleadingly. "Please, I'm not… I can't be weak."

George put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You aren't weak, Ron, always remember that."

Ron looked at Angela for support and was surprised to see her smile kindly at him. "Thanks, George," he muttered.

George nodded. "Alright, let's get back to work. So tell me, what was this I hear about you conjuring a bunch of flesh eating slugs at your opponent today in class?"

Ron laughed. "Got that idea from another memory," he bragged. "Merlin, that guy was one crazy nut case."

George laughed along with Ron and was truly grateful that Ron had come out a much better person since the whole Department thing. Truthfully, he had thought Ron would brag about his scars or want pity. He had asked for neither. Being Harry's friend had really taught him a lot. Speaking of Harry, George doubted that either Harry or Hermione knew about Ron's little episodes. He would have to talk to Fred and find a way to blackmail Ron into telling them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Resarcio Tergum," _Hermione intoned carefully on her transfigure piece of skin that had a large gash on it. It was slightly sickening to work with in the beginning, but as always, Hermione Granger never back down. The gash healed slowly, but quite successfully.

"Very good, Ms. Granger," Professor Sanchine said.

Her light blond hair often covered her face when she bent over a student's work, only to be moved away with irritation. She was a Charms Mistress and minored in Healing. Her class consisted of these two magic's. As Charms was not her best subject, though it used to be her favorite before Arithmacy, she would need to get better, and Healing would prove incredibly useful, Hermione had opted to join this class. Harry and Ron might be fighters, and she too would fight when the need was required, but she would rather try and provide help in other ways.

"Thank you, Professor Sanchine," Hermione said happily.

She was becoming one of the highest students already despite the class only going for five days. The only person who had a higher grade than her was Johan Lilith in Healing. Her whole family had been healers so Hermione didn't really hold that against her, though she still felt a competitiveness rise from within her.

"All of you are finished?" Professor Sanchine asked the class of fifty students, most not even going to Hogwarts.

"Yes, ma'am," the class intoned.

"Very good. That shall be all for today, though I want you all to practice your conjuration now that magic is allowed outside of school. Remember, start off small, such as _Avias, _before moving onto something large, though I implore you not to be idiotic and conjure an elephant."

The class chuckled.

Professor Sanchine smiled softly. "Tomorrow we shall be going over the Patronus Charm, so be sure to think over happy memories before coming. That is all."

Excited whispers broke out as the students packed up.

"Expect it won't be that hard for us," Silvia Fawcett whispered to Hermione. She was a Ravenclaw in Hermione's year and had been in Dumbledore's Army. "Especially since Harry already taught us that."

Hermione smiled, thinking of her friend. "Yes, we have learned most of these spells, but there are still quite a few even I didn't know about. It's so exciting!"

The two girls giggled, both excited at how much they were learning.

"Say, Hermione, you wouldn't happen to be in a rush, are you?" Silvia asked. "I'm meeting a friend of mine at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour right now. Want to come?"

Hermione thought about. It was true she was in no rush since all she had to do was summon the Knight Bus, though that was getting harder and harder. The Knight Bus was about to be shut down, especially with Death Eater's already being caught on the transport machine. On the other hand, she had also told her parents she would be home right after class. But then again, she had never hung out before with anyone other than Ron and Harry. It would be nice to hand out with a girl that didn't giggle constantly, much like her roommates.

"I'd be delighted to," Hermione said.

Silvia beamed as she led the way out of the building. The two of them chatted about small matters until they reached the ice cream shop.

"Ah, Tracey!" Silvia called, waving to a dark haired girl who was already drinking a smoothie.

The Slytherin girl looked up with a smile before growing cold at the sight of Hermione. "Silvia," she greeted formally.

Silvia rolled her eyes. "No need to be all official on me, Trace." Tracey scowled at the nickname. "Hermione's a friend of mine, and so I invited her. You both don't have a problem with that, do you?"

Tracey smirked. "I don't know, does Granger have a problem with sitting next to Slytherin's?"

Hermione didn't rise to the bait. "Of course not, but does Davis have a problem with sitting next to absolute know-it alls?"

Tracey stared at her for a second. "Touché, Granger."

Hermione smiled. "It's Hermione, if you want."

Tracey smirked. "Still Davis for you, Hermione, though I suppose that could change if pipe my interest even more."

On the sidelines Silvia sighed loudly. "Honestly, you bloody Gryffindor's and Slytherin's are such a pain in the arse!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Albus Dumbledore strode purposefully into the disgusting log home in Little Hangleton. His wand was in front of him, awaiting any attack. After a moment of nothing, the old wizard began to cast spell after spell, destroying any wards or hurtful spells that could get him. Able to easily destroy two bone crushing hexes, Dumbledore stood in the middle of the kitchen. He stared in sorrow at the old home, watching some aged and molded wood fall to the floor.

Raising his wand, he said, "_Invenio Arta_." A gray ball of light came out of the end of his wand and hit the very wall he was standing in front of.

Using a minor blasting curse, the hole in the wall revealed a dark ring kept in a glass box. The box was covered in protective wards, all done by Voldemort. However, these wards were made by a thirty year old Riddle, and a thirty year old Riddle had nothing on Dumbledore, despite its complexity. It took him well over and hour to destroy the remaining wards. Truthfully, this took him a shorter time than the others.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Dumbledore said, smiling as he did so. It always made him smile when he could use a first year spell to stop Voldemort. "Here you are, Tom." Dumbledore sent magic into the ring, intent on finding its weakness and destroying it. Once he found it, Dumbledore reach out and grabbed the ring.

Immediately, the ring glowed an ugly black that reeked of darkness before sending out a blast. Dumbledore was blown back several feet and hit the table. He got up quickly, cursing himself. He should have expected something like that!

"Dumbledore," a ghostly figure hissed. It was Tom Riddle, but he was already showing the earlier stages of his changes. He had deep red eyes that did not quite glow like the present Voldemort. His face was incredibly pasty and his nose was starting to disappear. He was truly an ugly creature.

"Oh, Tom," Dumbledore said sadly. "You were once such a handsome man, and now look at you."

"I care not for appearances, old man," the horcrux hissed. "But for power. Now that you have unleashed me with your magic, I am free to unleash the havoc this world deserves!"

Dumbledore brandished his wand threateningly. "I will not allow you to, Tom. I'm afraid this is where it ends."

The horcrux laughed as he gazed at his old mentor pityingly. "It is you who shall die. Goodbye, old man."

With that the horcrux raised his arm and shot off a beam of bright yellow with black electricity towards the Headmaster. Slashing his wand, the broken table transfigured into a five inch thick steel barrier. A good four inches were destroyed.

"You will not win so easily, Tom!" Dumbledore cried, conjuring a water whip and aiming it at the ring.

It was blocked by a shield.

"It is not so easy, is it?" the horcux taunted with boredom as he looked at his nails. "I tire of this, though I shall not foolish enough to play with you. I knew very well what you have done to my brothers."

"Then you know I have triumphed over each of them," Dumbledore said carefully.

The horcrux smirked. "Not this time."

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he felt a large amount of power gather around Riddle. "_Contego Maximus!_" he shouted, erecting the most powerful shield he knew. A blue, see-through bubble formed around him as the magic that had gathered formed an explosion. To an onlooker in the distance, all they would have seen was a mushroom of smoke followed by a blast of fire and wind that shook the trees. Sadly, the house had wards that made sure muggles did not take notice of what happened or happens in the Gaunt house.

As the fire burned in odd places on some of whatever survived the blast, the horcrux looked up to the sky and laughed. Showing a fist to the blue sky, the horcrux knew he would be unbeatable once he obtained his strength. He was completely drained, but it was worth it. Dumbledore was dead at las… What was that?

The horcrux angrily blasted a large pile of metal and wood away. Dumbledore lay gasping on the ground with a pole sticking out of stomach. Blood covered him completely, staining the white beard and bright yellow robe he was wearing.

The horcrux sneered. "You are as hard to kill as that blasted phoenix of yours." Dumbledore simply coughed up blood. The horcux kneeled on one knee, his ugly face lit up in triumph. "You have no idea how much it pleases me to see you suffer. Even if you somehow get yourself free and healed, you will still die from my infection."

Dumbledore glanced at his blackened hand with sorrow. He looked into the eyes of the horcrux. "Oh, Tom…"

"Save it, old man," the horcrux snarled. "Your death as come at last!" Red eyes lit up sadistically. "_Avada Kedavra_!" As the green light struck the weakened Albus Dumbledore, the horcrux threw up his head laughed once more, thinking he had truly won.

Once his moment was done, he turned to the dead Headmaster with slumped shoulders and slightly translucent form. He was completely drained. What he saw was enough to make him pale even more. The dead Albus Dumbledore was nothing more than a pile rubble.

"Golem!" the horcrux hissed with hatred.

"Yes, Tom," an extremely tired voice said. The real Dumbledore materialized in front of the drained dark object. He was slumped over, just as drained. He had used most of his magic to ensure the golem survived for so long. "I have destroyed four of you already," he said with conviction. "Surely you did not think I would not learn some new tricks?"

The horcrux sneered. "Even if you destroy me, you are nothing when compared to my real self."

"Your real self is a sad, sad replacement for what you could have been," Dumbledore said, lowering his head in sorrow. "You could have been great."

"I am great," the horcrux hissed.

Dumbledore smiled. "_Fiend Incendia!" _With a horrible screech, a huge amount of fire that looked like raging demons shot out of Dumbledore's wand and ate away at the horcrux. It screamed in agony, black smoke escaping from him before he disappeared completely, leaving a very charred ring.

Dumbledore slumped to the ground and picked up the ring, tears trailing down his cheeks. "Goodbye, Tom," he whispered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"The one with the power… The one with the power… What power does it speak of?"

Lord Voldemort was currently residing in Riddle manor, his form upright in his high chair, sipping a glass of wine. A dead muggle lay at his feet with barely enough skin covering his boy. He was missing both eyes and the tongue the lagged out of his shredded mouth had many broken tooth bites in it. He had taken out his frustrations on the muggle, though he still remained furious. Furious, but contemplative.

"The one with the power," Voldemort said softly. "Neither can live while the other survives." That could have a double meaning. What did it really mean to live?

'_May I eat the muggle, Master?' _Nagini asked as she slithered out of her dog bed in the corner.

'_Unless you wish to kill yourself with the poison ingested inside this filth, you may,' _Voldemort said carelessly as he stood and began pacing.

Nagini hissed irritably and simply curled into a giant ball as she watched her master pace. He was getting into another one of his moods. Ever since he had heard the prophecy, he had acted much differently, Nagini didn't understand why her master just didn't find the Potter boy and be done with it. A snake does not worry about the consequences of one's food, but merely hunts.

Voldemort repeated the prophecy out loud once more, knowing it all by heart. He had even conjured a small poster with it written on there so he could just gaze at the prophecy. He needed to think about this carefully, but where to begin? Did the prophecy have to do about his time about being nothing more than a wandering spirit or his rebirth? Or was it simply both? Or perhaps something else…

"The one with the power," Voldemort hissed unpleasantly.

He knew that now he would need to start thinking from Dumbledore's point of view as well. The old man probably believed that the power was love. That would not make sense. It was true he cared nothing for the useless emotion, but he had had lovers in the past that had simply worshipped him. He may not have felt anything for them, but in the earlier years of his life, while at Hogwarts, he had learned Legilemency and had practiced on his lovers. He knew what it felt like to have that emotion running through him, even if it wasn't on purpose.

So the old man had to be wrong.

'_Who's to say this power is anything special?' _Nagini asked. _'His gift could show up once he has become mature.'_

'_It is true that Potter's power could only come into play once he becomes an adult,' _Voldemort said thoughtfully.

He very much doubted that. Potter would have this power now, though it may not be as strong now as in the future once he is of age. Voldemort's lip curled in amusement as he thought about Potter. The boy had disgusted him so. He had grown up with muggles, just as he did, and yet he took magic for granted like some spoiled pureblood. The thought enraged him.

However, the incident in the Department of Mysteries had changed Potter. He had seen the dark thoughts that haunted Potter's mind when he had possessed him. He doubted Potter would ever join him, but if he at least put a barricade between him and Dumbledore, the war would turn in his favor.

But first he needed to condition the boy slowly. He sent nightmares each night of not his raids, but moments where the Order had been there but had done nothing to stop him. Of course the Order had to retreat because they were losing, but all Potter needed to see was how his precious Order wasn't so precious.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Harry… Harry, why didn't you save me?" a voice whispered with sorrow._

_Harry looked around wildly in the prophecy hall, searching for the voice. He paled at the sight of the veil. He watched in slow motion as Bellatrix shot the stunning curse, allowing his godfather to fall into the veil. His eyes were still open as they stared at Harry so accusingly._

_The Order, Harry noticed, just stood there and watched. The had already defeated their opponents, so why couldn't they have saved Sirius? Why could they do nothing except watch with helpless looks?  
_

_Harry felt anger boil in his gut he stared at the scene coldly._

"_You let me die Harry," Sirius' voice said._

_Harry shook his head, but not in denial. Instead he just chuckled in dark amusement. "I know you're there, Voldemort," he said softly._

_It was as if a snake of shadows was wrapping around Harry as he stood there. He did nothing but wait._

"_Ah, Harry, I see you have improved."_

"_If you mean Occlumency, then no," Harry said bluntly. "It is rather obvious that it's you. I have been receiving visions everyday this week, though this is the first time you've talked with me for a while. Special occasion, Tom? Or are you going to tell meyou've decided to stop the war?"  
_

_Amusement rushed over him, though it was not his own._

"_My, what a tongue you have, Harry. Best be careful, lest you make the wrong person angry and have it cut off."_

"_I'm sure you would get rather bored with me if I couldn't complain," Harry said, sighing as he sat down against the wall of his dream. Everybody was still looking at him in anger and betrayal. "I need a smoke."_

_He heard Voldemort scoff. "You use disgraceful methods to escape, Potter."_

"_Ah, what happened to Harry?" Harry asked, trying to imagine a cigarette in his hand. This was, after all, a dream. He sighed as nothing happened. "Sure beats torturing people to death," Harry said, looking at all of the prophecies. "You here to try and make me turn my back on the Order, or perhaps tell you the prophecy?" Harry asked._

_Voldemort chuckled cruelly. "I already know the prophecy, child."_

_Harry narrowed his eyes at being called a child. However, he said nothing._

"_Received it from the source," Voldemort purred, satisfied at seeing Harry pale though impressed he didn't show any emotion. "She was such a waste, as I'm sure you would agree. Just think about the bright side, Harry. No more death predictions."_

Harry woke up immediately after that, the sound of Voldemort's laughter still ringing in his ears. Glancing at his alarm clock, he noticed it was exactly one minute before it would go off. Shaking his head, Harry just turned it off. Getting out of bed and stretching, he did not once question why he wasn't feeling anything towards the dream. He had gotten so used to them that they just became a normal occurrence. Besides, there was no attack, so he didn't need to contact the Order.

Scratching his chest as he grabbed some clothes so that he could take into the bathroom before he left for his new dueling class, Harry stopped short as he saw his notebook opened to the page he had left at. It was the very last thing he had written. His rock was sitting on top of it, as if begging him to read.

"Study magic hard…" Harry chuckled. "I was one blunt kid."

He closed his notebook carefully before gazing at it for a moment. He felt a sense of sadness as he thought about Sirius. He still missed his godfather, but right now he had to forget about it. Sighing, Harry got ready for his day, face already turning into a mask.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry eyed the surrounding boys and girls carefully, trying to find someone he knew. There were some he recognized from Hogwarts but had never talked to. Harry was also sure most of these kids went to private schools or were home schooled. He had counted at least forty people before they continued to intermix with each other so much he just gave up, though he was pretty sure fifty or so kids were there. They all ranged from a year below him to at least two years older. This would definitely be exciting.

In the very middle of the stadium they were in was a dueling rink that was four feet high. The walls were a plain white while the ground was made with a bouncy rug that felt perfect for relaxation.

As the kids continued to chatter, a door burst open with a bang, causing an echo in the small stadium. A white haired man with an extremely wrinkled face walked in. His dark eyes were fierce with the many signs of seeing too much in his life. He was wearing tight black pants that were just a bit creepy on a man his age with black dragon hide boots and shirt, along with a wand holster that was clearly visible on his right arm.

"All of you gather into a long line!" he barked, causing the majority to jump. He gave them all a measuring look once they got into place. "I am your teacher, Hansel Harsen. You may refer to me as Sir, Professor or Mr. Harsen. Usually I just teach brats like yourself how fight in a traditional dueling competition, however, with the war, things will become much more extreme. For the first two days, we shall be learning spells before actually going into the ring. We do not move onto a new spell until absolutely everyone has learned said spell, understand?"

Whispers broke out, some looking at each other suspiciously, daring the others to even hold them back.

"However," Harsen said softly, breaking the whispers, "if any of you truly lags behind, you will be kicked out. This is a higher level. If you wish for something easier, you may leave."

No one left.

Harsen smirked. "Good. Now, the first thing I need to discuss is rules. If any of you have problems, take it out in the ring, but not while outside of it. Formal Forfeit Challenges are allowed."

The purebloods muttered amongst themselves, looking incredibly pleased. Harry knew he would have to look that up immediately.

"Illegal curses are, obliviously, illegal. Anything that will cause ever lasting damage on purpose or near death will get you a one way ticket to the Aurors office. My spells will be borderline dark, some may even be considered actually dark." He glared at some of the horrified looks. "This is the real world!" he barked. "Light and Dark do not exist, but are mere titles. It is up to you to discern what they mean."

Harry found himself, along with a few others, nodding along.

"I expect you all to wear appropriate clothing," he continued. "Battle robes are considered formal and traditional. You may where them if you like, though I warn you it is much easier to wear simples clothing, much like myself. However, I also warn you that if you wish to enter a competition, formal robes are required. If you are muggleborn, like I see some right now, jeans and shirts are fine. I suggest, however, you all get a wand holster. I will be selling them at the end of class for ten sickles. They are simple leather with a simple anti-summoning spell."

Harsen allowed them to think over on what he just told them.

"Very well. Now, if no one is missing, we should have fifty students. I accept no more and no less. Get into groups of five and be sure to be far apart from each other. I assure you this room expands when needed and has some of the best protection wards. I shall be teaching you all one of my personal favorite spells. It will be hard, and I doubt many of you will get it until at least an hour passes, but this is to prove to you all how hard my classes will truly be."

Everybody looked at him in excitement. Harry griped his wand at his side eagerly. He could feel his rock offering a supportive weight in his pocket.

Harsen raised his wand and made a half circle motion with his wand as he shouted, "_Unda Verbero!_"

A thin water whip escaped from the end of his wand, awing the onlookers and reminding Harry of how Dumbledore had fought. He was pretty sure the Headmaster loved this spell as well. With several professional slashes through the air, Harsen ended it. He had shown off just enough to prove how amazing the spell was but not enough to be arrogant.

"Well, what are you waiting for!" he barked, once again causing the majority to jump. "Get into groups!"

Harry looked around carefully; waiting for any group to form that had an opening. Everybody just kept looking at each other suspiciously. It seemed that most wanted only a group that wouldn't slow them down.

"Found a group yet?" a voice purred behind Harry.

Harry turned and was eye to eye with a boy with raven black hair that was long enough to reach the bottom of his neck and light blue eyes that had a hint of purple in them. He had perfect white teeth and had an aristocrat look. He was wearing formal robes that didn't have any sleeves. His wand holster was easily visible that was made with green scales that didn't look like dragon scales.

"Not quite yet," Harry said. "Though, if you decide to stay with me I'll have part of a group."

The boy gave a tiny smirk, looking Harry up and down carefully. Cygnus Belby, son of Damocles Belby." He held out his hand.

Harry reached out, both giving firm grips. "Harry Potter," he gave back. "Son of James Potter."

Cygnus gave a small smile that proved he already knew who Harry was. "Perhaps we should find our groups? Harsen seems to be a bit impatient."

Harry nodded in agreement as they started looking around. They ended up being in a group with two other boys and one girl. The girl definitely looked like she could take care of herself, especially when she gave the boy with light blond hair a good stinging hex for openly leering. The other boy had bright red hair, almost like the Weasley's, but had a very unemotional look. As long as no one got in his way, he wouldn't bother them.

As the many groups formed a wide circle, a large, thick stone materialized in the middle of them. That would be their target.

As Harry got his wand out, he thought that this room acted a lot like the Room of Requirements. "_Unda Verbero!_" Harry made the same motion as the teacher. To his disappointment a tiny dribble of water escaped.

The blond boy achieved nothing while both the red head boy and girl got a little amount of water, though less than Harry. Cygnus actually achieved a three inch whip that seemed physical before it fell to the floor in less than five seconds. They all looked annoyed at their pathetic achievement.

"Perhaps we should practice on the wand movement and incantation before we actually perform the spell," the girl offered. She looked slightly haughty but otherwise didn't look like she cared much for the others. She did give Harry a sneer for wearing muggle clothing. "And I am Victoria Parkinson," she said.

Harry gave her a look, taking in her blond hair and icy brown eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Pansy Parkinson, would you?" he asked.

"My little sister," she said carelessly. "She goes to Hogwarts while I am home schooled. I care not for silly house rivalries that will disrupt my studying."

There was a small silence.

"I'm Alfred Ternal the Third," the blond boy said, breaking the silence.

"Son of Alfred Ternal the second, major transport in wand cores, also the son of a squib," Victoria said with a sneer.

Alfred looked embarrassed. "We are not here to make enemies," Harry interrupted harshly, giving Victoria a stern look. "You claim you don't want house rivalries interrupting your studying, and yet here you are causing problems that may very well cause those problems. As Harsen said, have your fights in the ring."

Victoria had an ugly look. "Well said," she said simply, irritably. She said nothing more but instead turned to the red haired boy.

"Gent," he said simply, making Harry wonder how and why purebloods make such strange names for their children.

"Last name?" Cygnus asked.

"Doesn't matter," Gent said blankly. "Now, shall we get started on this? I don't believe any one of us felt comfortable when we cast the spell. That's why we all failed."

"Hold on," Victoria said snidely. She turned to Cygnus. "And you are?" she drawled.

"Cygnus Belby," he stated. "I believe your father knows mine."

Victoria looked contemplative. "Only for shipping potion ingredients," she sneered. "Not for healing half-breeds."

Cygnus just looked smug, as if he knew a secret that she wouldn't get even if she begged.

"Shall we?" Harry interrupted.

"No, I still don't know your name," Victoria said.

Harry sighed. "Harry Potter, at your service. Now, shall we begin?"

With a different look this time, easily interpreted as suspicious, she nodded. As one, they all did the wrist movement.

"I believe I know our problem," Gent said, surprising them all with his serious look. "None of us are turning our wrist half way with a jerk. We are too soft. This is a whip, a weapon to cause pain. We need to feel the need to send out our whip against our opponent."

Again they were surprised. There was a lot more than they first thought about Gent.

Harry took up his wrist and used it in more of a slashing motion, being sure to add the half circle. "_Unda Verbero!_" he snapped, wanting to see that rock be whipped.

To his surprise, a four foot whip was released from his wand. Upon impact with the thick stone, it immediately dissolved into normal water, falling on the ground. The rug remained dry, however.

Heartened by their partner's better achievement, they got started. Cygnus waited until the others had gone before starting. Saying the spell almost harshly, a whip just as long as Harry's shot out and made a small cut into the rock that was no more than one centimeter thick. The water collapsed onto the ground.

Cygnus looked at his work in disgust.

"Just focus," Harry said, not giving Cygnus a look as he performed the spell once more. "You have obviously never done this spell before. Just focus and it'll get better. Don't rush and get angry."

Cygnus gave him an indignant look before chuckling. "A Gryffindor telling a Slytherin to not rush?" He chuckled again.

"You're in Slytherin?" Harry asked, smiling softly but otherwise looking determined. He could see the humor in that as well.

"Seventh year this year," Cygnus said, performing the spell, a dark look forming as he got the same reaction.

Harry, on the other hand, managed to get a four centimeter deep cut into the rock. Based on the thickness of statues in the Department of Mysteries and how Dumbledore and Voldemort easily destroyed them, he wasn't sure if he was doing all that well. He did have to think about Dumbledore and Voldemort being incredibly old with much more experience.

"_Unda Verbero!_" Victoria snapped, drawing the attention of the others. She looked just like Pansy when she got angry. Exactly like a pug. He water whip still fell apart as she took a swing.

They spent an hour working on the spell, each getting better and better. It seemed that all of them had managed it, even if some had incredibly weak whips that fell apart after a small tap against the rock.

"Give it a few more goes," Harsen told them all as he surveyed them carefully. He had used the hour to walk around, watching the different groups with the look of a shark. Harry felt the teacher staring at him. He could feel Harsen's disappointment as his whip easily broke after one snap, despite leave an inch thick dent in the rock. He felt disappointed in himself, especially since he knew so many expected so much. Feeling anger surge through him, Harry gathered his magic.

"_Unda Verbero!_" Harry almost snarled, putting so much into his spell.

What happened next shocked the others. An extremely flexible whip escaped from Harry's wand and withered like a snake. With a harsh slashing motion, Harry slammed his whip into the stone, cutting halfway through. Harry panted horribly, feeling both drained and different. His whip still remained so he banished it quickly and slumped to the ground.

"Too much magic there, sonny," Harsen growled, sound eerily like Moody. "All of you sit for a good twenty minutes. Regain your strength; we'll begin on something easier." With that he walked away.

Harry breathed through his nose as he covered his mouth, feeling just a little sick. He brought out the water bottle he had brought and took a big gulp. He really had used too much magic, but for some reason it felt a bit different.

"Something wrong, Potter?" Cygnus asked, not exactly looking unruffled either.

"Like Harsen said, too much magic," Harry responded. He had no intention of telling these strangers his magic felt off after he just got angry.

They rested in silence for the next twenty minutes. It was nowhere near enough to regain back their magic, leaving them still tired. Harry gave a rather perverse smile as he stood up, prepared for the next spell. He liked this kind of lesson. The kind that demanded you better get your ass ready and learn, even if you are magically drained.

"This one will be a bit easier," Haresn said, standing with his arms folded. "This is a simple charm that helps ward off dangerous animals. It will not help against animals with creature intelligence, such griffons and Runespoor's. It will also not work on beasts that are considered level five and some higher level four's. It all depends on the power you put into this charm and how much of a beast your foe may be. The Dark Lord has been known to use dangerous beasts in his army.

"This spell will give off a slight power and sense of threat toward weaker beasts that could or could not pose a threat. An example could be a Bundimun, pesky little creatures, or Crups. They can certainly take out a good chunk of skin. What you do is take an item that can easily be carried. Coins, pendants, you name it. They don't last long. Hour, perhaps two if you're good with the spell. All they're useful for is if you just happen to be walking in the woods and there might be some creature you would rather have frightened away than to deal with yourself.

"The spell is pronounced _Aegre_." He pulled out a flat, circular disk with a small hole on it. He said the spell again and tapped it. The disk glowed a soft blue before returning to normal. "As easy as that. I usually use this spell on the collar of my cats to make sure they don't get eaten by foxes."

Harry wondered if he should do the same for Hedwig. Before he put much thought into it, the rock disappeared. In its place were five rocks and five disks.

"Use the rocks to transfigure an animal to make sure it works," Harsen told them. "There are five, so incase one of you messes up and destroys your rock, another can continue."

Harry and the others looked at each other.

"I believe only one animal is in need," Cygnus said coolly. "_Iratus Canis,_" he said simply. The rock transfigured into a snarling dog. It barked loudly with a mad look in its eyes. "_Talea_." The dogs' feet were glued to the dog, leaving it snapping at air. "Shall we begin one at a time?"

"That's fine," Harry responded. "As you made the dog, you're welcome to go first."

Cygnus smirked. "Of course I am."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as Cygnus tried the charm. It took him one time before it worked. The dog stopped snarling and snapping, instead lowering its ears and whining. It was trying to flee. Because of its glued feet, it didn't go anywhere.

"_Finite Incantatum_," Cygnus said, canceling his disk. Immediately the dog began to snarl and snap again.

There was a small silence before Harry walked forward. "I'll go next," he said.

"Sure you can go? You were quite drained and still seem so," Victoria said, examining her nails.

Harry gave her an intense look, pleased to see that she looked away instantly. "_Aegre_," he said softly, focusing intently.

The dog once again began whining and yelping. It actually started biting its legs to escape. Canceling the charm, Harry gave Victoria a smug look. Returning the look with a sneer as she started on the spell. Over the hour they all played with the spell, seeing who could keep theirs working the longest.

As Harsen got the attention of his students, he was looking pleased. "I am very impressed," he told them. "You all continued to work, despite feeling drained. Remember that feeling, for in battle, you will be drained. Do you all understand?"

Not many of them did, but those who had fought in dueling competitions did, and so they nodded along with Harry.

"Good." He gave a stern nod. "And now, we shall be going over theory and battle tactics. In battle, running in blindly will get you killed. So put away your wands and get ready for some physical exercise."

There was a lot of groaning, and not just from the purebloods.

Later that day, after many running exercises and a few potions given out, they were finally allowed to collapse in a heap. Even Cygnus, who liked to look rather uptight, was lying on the ground with Harry. Others were leaning against the wall, all very sweaty and were eagerly sipping water.

"It is not well known, but good physical condition helps regulate magic," Harsen said. "That does not mean you become stronger magically or gain more magic, but it is easier. Think about why wizards keep to old fashion tradition. Parchment is almost pure tree. It is an object from this world that reacts well with magic, unlike thin, muggle paper. It is all a matter of how magic works well with something."

Well, that explained a few things. It also made Harry wonder if this was why he rarely saw a fat witch or wizard. He had only seen a few, and they worked in poor little shops.

"No actual practice on dueling stances, but a good start on your physical training. Again, you don't like it, you may leave." No one left, though a few looked like they were thinking about it. "Break for lunch. Be back in exactly an hour and a half. No excuses." Harsen walked out of the stadium.

Harry ran a hand over his forehead and through his sweaty hair. Wiping the sweat on his pants, Harry stood, unable to believe he still had a few more hours left.

"I'm off for lunch," Harry told Cygnus. "You?"

"Same." Cygnus looked just as sweaty. With an irritant wave, he muttered, "_Sudo Absentis_." His sweat disappeared. Cygnus still looked ruffled, even as he attempted to fix his look with an irritated look that completely looked like Draco Malfoy.

"Mind teaching me that?" Harry asked.

"You heard the spell," Cygnus said. "Wave your wand around your body for it to work."

Harry did so, happy that it worked after he tried it a second time. "Owe you for that one."

"I know," Cygnus said with a smirk. "You forget, I'm a Slytherin."

"Right." Harry led them out of the stadium and out into a hall in the Ministry that was slowly being filled with the exiting students. "I'm headed over to the Leaky Cauldron. See you when we start again."

Cygnus nodded, though he still walked beside Harry. They were headed for the same exit, after all.

"My, my. Mr. Potter," a voice crooned.

Harry felt his shoulders tense as he turned, face cold. Madam Umbridge stood amongst the Ministry workers. Harry noticed she had an angry twitch above her eyebrow that didn't seem to stop.

"Undersecretary," he said, voice as cold as ice.

Her smile wavered for a moment at the obvious shot at her position. It was true that wasn't the best name her position.

"I take it we are taking Ministry classes, hmm? I wasn't aware we offered such privileges to those with a record, especially one as important as spell casting."

"That's quite old," Harry said, looking at her. "You were there, or has it simply escaped your thoughts? The trial proved I was telling the truth."

"Rewording lies," Umbridge said simply. "I'll be seeing the Minster about this. It does not do to have a juvenile in such upbringing areas." She turned to Cygnus. "And you are?"

"Cygnus Belby," Cygnus said in amusement.

Madam Umbridge gave him a pitying look. "Dear child, a pureblood such as yourself should be warned, it wouldn't be good to be seen with certain people."

"Such as Potter?" Cygnus asked. "I _was _at school last year. I know your thoughts on this matter."

Umbridge gave him a simpering smile that was rather ugly.

"Oh, and, Madam Umbridge?" Cygnus said as he and Harry began to walk away. "It's best that you should be warned, purebloods don't like to be told what to do, especially by someone of contaminated blood."

Umbridge looked ready to whip out her Blood Quill and stab him with it.

As they walked away, Harry eyed Cygnus coolly. "For all her preaching about purebloods being better, she's not?"

"Both her parents were squibs and the first born of two high standing purebloods." Cygnus smiled coldly. "Not exactly sure what that makes her." He eyed Harry and gave him a smirk. "Be seeing you, Potter."

It was in that moment Harry understood what was happening. Voldemort had allowed himself to be known, and now people were having trouble figuring out where they stood in this war. Cygnus was looking at Harry as a backup plan, but first he needed to get close to Harry in a way that won't be suspicious.

Harry chuckled. He could respect that. After all, Slytherin's always look after themselves.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You look like shit," Dudley commented as Harry fell onto a kitchen chair, sandwich clattering on his plate.

Harry gave Dudley a dark look. "And you've always looked like shit," Harry replied.

Dudley looked enraged, his fist already raised. All it took was for Harry to place his wand on the table and give Dudley a cold glance. He lowered it immediately and looked away.

"Whatever," he muttered. "You haven't see dad going through my room, have you?"

"Missing some pot?" Harry asked.

Dudley colored before looking a bit scared. "Mom took…?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Why, is it your pot?"

"How do you even know I smoke pot?" Dudley demanded loudly.

"Smooth, Dudley," Harry commented. "Just scream it out. Even if your parents aren't home, people can hear through our pathetic walls."

Dudley looked nervous as he gazed suspiciously at the walls.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not to mention all the damn spies and gossipers."

"We have spies?" Dudley said, giving Harry a strange look that obviously meant he was crazy.

"All of the wives," Harry said, starting on his sandwich.

"Oh." Dudley nodded in agreement, thinking about his gossiping mother. He looked at Harry suspiciously. "How do you know its pot?" he asked again.

"Dudley, unlike you, I'm not an idiot. You walk in every night with that smell."

"Smell?"

"Pot leaves a smell," Harry said, gazing at Dudley that clearly said he was the crazy one.

"I know that," Dudley said angrily. "But I come home late enough for my folks to be asleep."

"Your mum is up," Harry said, wondering why he was having this conversation.

"Oh… She doesn't say anything."

"She likes to believe you're perfect on the outside of her mind," Harry said, finishing up his food and slouching.

Dudley smirked. "Jealous?"

"Hardly."

"…will she say anything?"

"I don't even know if she knows. Your mum is pretty oblivious."

"But you just said…"

"It's up to you how you interpret what I say."

Dudley stared. "Have you stolen my pot?"

"Never smoked it before."

"Pussy."

"Right." Harry gave his cousin a look. "And I seriously doubt you handle yourself well with alcohol. I see you falling all over the place when your parents aren't home. How much does it take, one beer?"

"More than you could handle!" Dudley snapped. "And I bet you could never handle pot that well, either.

Harry gave a truly pitying look. "Pot only makes you lightheaded and boosts emotions, such as happiness, dumass."

Dudley reddened. "Prove it."

Harry really must've hit a tick if Dudley was daring him to a drink off or pot off or whatever the hell Dudley wanted. Oh well, free booze.

"Do you even have enough?" Harry asked calmly, giving Dudley an indifferent look.

This only made Dudley angrier. "Course I do. Come on, freak."

Harry followed Dudley into his room where he got on his stomach, fat butt in the air. He brought out a box from under his bed and opened it. It had two packs of beer, a few bags of white powder, one large bag of some green stuff that looked like mold and a few lone cigarettes.

Dudley handed a beer to Harry, giving him a challenging look. Sneering, Harry took a gulp, finding he barely tolerated the taste. Truthfully, butterbeer had small traces of alcohol that actually gave the consumer a start off in getting used to it. It was actually a sneaker way to get purebloods used to alcohol, especially since in the future they were to drink heavy wine when in meetings.

"Is that cocaine?" Harry asked, pointing at the white powder as he took another drink.

"Why, you want some? Never thought you'd be the type, 'specially since you're such a wuss."

"Watch what you say, Dudders," Harry said dangerously, allowing his wand to be visible.

Dudley gulped. "Well, it's true. So, you want any?"

"No, I don't do that."

Dudley looked like he wanted to insult Harry again before the tiny piece of brain he had sent warning sparks. "Whatever. I guess it's cool, I don't do it, either."

"So you're a seller," Harry stated, leaning against Dudley's bed, wondering, once again, why he was here. He glanced at the beer in his hand. Oh yea.

"Yea, I sell. How else do you think I have money all the time?"

"Steal from your folks or beg," Harry stated bluntly.

"Well, yea, that too."

Harry snorted as he watched Dudley take out a glass pipe. It was shaped like a mushroom. Even the top with the hole was painted red like a mushroom. He put the green mold in it.

"Marijuana," Dudley said, which Harry actually needed to hear.

He hadn't exactly seen drugs, except in pictures in primary school when they had been shown pictures of what to stay away from. Dudley took a lighter and lit up the green drug as he sucked on the end. Harry could hear bubbling coming from the pipe. Dudley took the pipe from his mouth and blew some smoke.

Harry shook his head. "Might want some air freshener and to open that window."

"Oh, right." Dudley heaved a sigh as he got up.

Harry took that time to grab the five lone cigarettes. He put four in his pocket and brought the other to his mouth, but not before opening another can of beer.

"Hand me that light," Harry ordered.

"Try this one," Dudley said smugly.

Eyebrow raised, Harry turned the lighter on away from his face. The end erupted like a torch and even sounded like one. Harry chuckled at the interesting lighter and tossed it back to Dudley.

"Not with this one, it'll destroy my smoke. Give me the other."

"Not going to try this?" Dudley asked, holding out the pipe.

"Nope." Harry breathed in deeply and blew the smoke at Dudley's face. "Not interested. Cheers, Dudley." He took another sip of his beer, grabbed another one, and left, leaving Dudley all alone with a look of confusion.

Harry went back to his room and sat on his bed. Sighing, Harry tugged off his shoes and smoked and drank in peace, completely exhausted. They had gone over several ways and how to move properly after he returned to class. His mind was dead from all that memorization, and she as hell wasn't going to destroy it on drugs. He was already going to kill himself with smoking, not that it mattered.

"Doubt I'll even live through the year," Harry muttered, thinking about Voldemort's challenge.

Done with his smoke, Harry closed his eyes and went to sleep, not even bothering to get out of his clothes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Albus Dumbledore," a stern voice reprimanded. "Just what on earth have you done… again?"

Dumbledore chuckled as he sat down on one of Madam Pomphrey's medical beds. "Oh, just a little reunion," he told her, eye twinkling brightly.

"You mean another horcrux destroyed," Pomphrey corrected easily. She was under oath and could not tell anyone, but Dumbledore rather liked her sarcastic reprimands about destroying such dangerous objects. "Magical depletion again, Albus. You're staying overnight."

Dumbledore chuckled heartily. "My dear, you know I have important issues that must be taken care of."

"You can seal that ridiculous Room of Requirements tomorrow," Pomphrey said dismissively.

"Oh, yes, thank you very much for reminding me to do that." Dumbledore gave her an innocent look as she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't give me any of that, Albus. You know as well as I that room can be used for more than an innocent prank, such building an army," she said dryly.

"Or for holding a horcrux," Dumbledore offered, giving her a tiny smile as she handed him some potions.

"I shudder to think what else might be in this school. Horcrux's, basilisks…"

Dumbledore planted a reassuring hand on her shoulder and offered a smile, twinkling eyes and all. The moment was broken as Professor McGonagall entered the room, looking a bit ruffled as she limped into the infirmary with a broom over her shoulder.

She saw the Headmaster's bloody form and sighed. "I don't even want to know."

Madam Pomphrey sighed. "Don't tell me you've been flying in your condition."

McGonagall gave her a stern look. "Yes, Poppy, with my limp I decided to go out flying, with Potter's broom, no less," she said dryly, ignoring Dumbledore's chuckle.

"I take it you have destroyed the spells holding Mr. Potter's broom," he said, nodding toward the Firebolt.

"And what a pain they were." McGonagall sat down beside the Headmaster. "Some of her spells were near dark."

"Protection charms?"

"Not those, but a rather nasty hex that leaves some infected cuts on whoever tries to take the broom forcefully." The Transfiguration teacher gave an ugly look at the walking stick, reminded of the dreadful woman. She got up. "Best send this to Potter and tell him of the ban lift, not that that woman had say in such a thing."

Dumbledore chuckled as she left, amused to see her so obsessed with getting her best seeker back. What a shame the Weasley twins wouldn't be coming back. He always enjoyed getting a kick out of those two.

Then again, Dumbledore reflected as he stared out at the darkening sky, they all needed something to smile about now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Neville Longbottom watched in confusion as a white owl he barely recognized fly toward him. He rarely ever got letters from people, let alone classmates. Giving the owl some water, he opened the letter eagerly, hoping it wasn't some sort of demand his grandma had sent to him via owl just because she didn't want to walk up the stairs.

_Hey Neville,_

_Well, better late than never, though I really should have sent this ages ago. It was just too hard to write at first. I'm very sorry, Neville. I am so sorry I got you into such a dangerous position, not to mention getting your father's wand snapped. We were all completely thoughtless, I more than anyone when we went into that department. I know I can't do that anymore, Neville, and things must change. Change has already begun, though I fear for the worst._

_I do hope that your nose and everything else is feeling better and I need you to know something. I would have never been able to go through that department without you. Without a doubt in my mind I would be dead. It's good to know I have such a good friend at my back. Don't be afraid to owl, I'll always have your back as well._

_Harry_

Neville beamed at the letter. Harry truly considered him a good friend. No, a great friend. A friend that he wasn't afraid to go into battle with. It truly warmed Neville's heart that he had gotten such a good friend.

He began to write…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley called.

"I'm busy!" Ginny called back.

"There's a letter for you, and I believe it's from Harry."

Ginny immediately dropped her magazine and rushed out of her room and into the kitchen where Hedwig the owl was currently sitting next to and almost dead Errol. She eagerly took the note from her mother and ripped it open, being sure to slink away from the prying eyes of her mother.

_Ginny,_

_First off is the big apology for almost getting you killed. However, as I know that you will most likely cut off a few important limbs if you were to know I'm blaming myself over the death of Sirius and rushing you all off to the Department of Mysteries, I'll stop. Truly though, Ginny. I could have never gotten out of there without you, just as we couldn't have gotten out without the help of the others._

_You were amazing against those Death Eater's, Ginny, and incredibly brave. The next battle, I'm afraid, won't be as easy. I know you'll try and be ready, just as we all will, but don't forget your friends have your back._

_Harry_

_P.S. Please watch out for Ron for me. I'm pretty sure his brain scars are much worse than what he told Hermione and I. Thanks._

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. Harry had just basically told her that he could have never done what he could without her, while at the same time saying she couldn't have done what she could without the help of her friends. It was, at the same time, insulting her for being weak enough to rely on others and to keep her ego and a normal level and remind her that her friends loved her and would always remain beside her. It was quite an odd way of saying it, though very Slytherin.

Rereading the letter, Ginny got a thoughtful look before a smile that would make an imp proud appeared on her face as she began her letter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Luna, my beautiful strawberry," Xenophilius Lovegood said softly as he opened the bedroom door of his daughter.

"Hello, daddy," Luna greeted warmly, misty silver eyes looking up from a bracelet she was making. "Are we having strawberries tonight as we run with the fairies?"

"The fairies have moved on early, dear," Mr. Lovegood said dejectedly before brightening. "Oh, but we are having strawberries!"

Luna nodded softly. "Yes," she sighed, sounding like a tragic poet. "The fairies would have moved on by now. Will we have whip cream with our strawberries?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Lovegood said cheerfully. "And we have that fresh jar of strawberry jam you made. What could taste better than strawberry on strawberry?"

"I don't know, daddy, though I do adore peaches."

"Peach jam? Yuck! The taste would be awful!"

"I suppose it would," Luna agreed firmly, face completely cheerfully and mysterious at the same time. "Was there something you needed, daddy?"

Mr. Lovegood looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I don't quite remember why I came up. I remember we were discussing strawberries."

"I do love strawberries."

"Me too, my little rumple. Now, what was it…?"

"Perhaps it has something to do with the letter in your hand?"

"Letter?"

"In your hand," Luna supplied once more, smiling softly.

"Ah! That's it, thornless rose!" Mr. Lovegood said, adding, once again, another nickname of endearment for his daughter. "From a young Mr. Potter. And here's his owl. She's the one staring at your two headed, twenty eyed fish."

"Bonkers?" Luna asked, walking over to her fishbowl that held a simple goldfish with two heads and twenty tiny eyes. Hedwig seemed to be a bit startled by the sight. "Don't worry, Hedwig," Luna said, lifting the owl into the air. "Bonkers is very friendly, though sadly shy. I'm afraid he won't make a good conversationalist."

"What a shame indeed," Mr. Lovegood said, completely agreeing with his daughter. He handed her the letter. "Well, button, I'd best be off. I'll be jamming the strawberries!"

"Ooh, that sounds delicious," Luna said dreamily, petting Hedwig on the beak. "Would you care for some, Hedwig? Strawberries are so very delicious." Hedwig hooted a negative. "Well, I'm sure Harry would like some. Now let's see what he's written, though I do hope it isn't from another man who claims he's Harry Potter. That would be quite rude."

Hedwig said absolutely nothing, though if a normal person had been in the room, they would have sworn they'd seen an owl role its eyes.

_Luna,_

_Now nargles or whatever is near me to try and lie or whatever in this letter is not here. (I hope that makes sense, though I'm sure you get it.). I do hope your summer has been good. Mine has been tiring, though in a good way. Listen, before I start rambling, the first thing I need to do is apologize. I dragged you into a very dangerous situation, one that could have gotten you killed. I would have never forgiven myself if that happened to you. I can be a very dangerous person to hang around with, Luna, but you stuck around. I am forever grateful to have such a friend as you. You are definitely one of a kind, Luna. Don't ever change._

_Owl whenever you need to or simply wish to talk. You've watched my back, and now it's your turn for me to watch yours._

Luna paused. Watch her back for what? She was certain she had no baby Nooglet's on her back. Best make sure with dad.

_Take care, Luna. Thank you for everything._

_Harry_

"Harry is so kind," Luna said to Hedwig, silvery eyes just as wide as Hedwig's yellow ones. "I suppose the polite thing to do is send him a letter, but do you think he might think I'm really not Luna? I didn't think this was from Harry but it sounds just like Harry. You will take this to the real Harry Potter, won't you?"

Hedwig glared at Luna for wasting her time before hooting softly and bobbing her head.

"Oh, wonderful!" Luna spun around in a circle, startling Hedwig. Setting the poor owl on her bright green beanbag chair with a bright yellow peace sign on it, Luna got started, preferring to sit on the ground.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So yes, a new chapter. I know some of you might be wondering why this mindless drug scene was in it, but remember, this Harry doesn't do things without a purpose anymore. It'll be revealed in the future. Other than that, enjoy and REVIEW!

Clicky dat button, peeps.


End file.
